Draw A Circle
by Carrot The LuvMachine
Summary: While cleaning his room, Arthur stumbled upon a box of old photos from during Alfred's childhood. His fairy friends noticed the look of nostalgia in his eyes and decided to lend him a hand in the only way they see fit. Mpreg USxUK
1. Chapter 1

Draw A Circle

Chapter One

It had been raining nonstop for the past three days in London, forcing the residents of the city into their homes to sit on their couches and wonder when the weather would take a turn for the better. One resident, however, was determined not to let boredom get the best of him. Arthur Kirkland had decided long ago that when the weather prevented him from going outside he would just have to keep busy inside instead. So, the nation decided on this day that it would be the perfect opportunity to clean out his closet.

In the process of cleaning, his room had become an utter disaster. Clothes that were once hung up in the closet now lay strewn about the bed as he sorted through them and decided what to keep and what to throw away, shoes were scattered about on the floor, and Arthur was deep in his closet going through the many boxes he had stored there and forgotten about. His fairy friends had agreed to help him out (which he was very thankful for since it meant less trips from the closet to the bed) though the extent of what they could carry wasn't very much. They had formed a line and would pass items to one another until said item reached the bed to be looked at later. While they worked they would sing songs in their mythical language that Arthur had always found very soothing despite the fact that he didn't know exactly what it was they were singing about. Living with fairies didn't necessarily mean he understood their language, but he was starting to pick up more and more every time they spoke to one another.

He had just handed off the last shoe to a purple fairy when his hand stumbled over a small box completely covered in dust and hidden from sight. Quirking his brow he reached deeper into the black abyss (he made a mental note to install a light in his closet for the next time he randomly had the urge to clean in here) and pulled the box forward into the light. He blew some of the dust off and was able to make out the word "photos" written in a thick black marker along the side. Placing the box in his lap, he scooted out of the closet and opened it up, curious as to what he would find inside. The second the lid was off more dust floated into the air and Arthur coughed to get the particles from his lungs. He heard the tiny fairies around him sneeze and noticed that they'd stopped working and were hovering over his shoulder to see what he had found. He smiled and looked at them. "We've been working hard. I suppose it's time for a break."

Arthur rummaged through the box for a second before pulling out the first photo and flipping it over to see his own face smiling up at him. The picture dated back to when Alfred had been under his care, for the baby colony was nestled in his arms, staring shyly at the camera as if he didn't trust it. Arthur smiled to himself, remembering the day it was taken which was shortly after he'd gained control over America.

"Who is that?" one of the fairies asked, poking at Alfred's chubby face in the photo.

Arthur looked at the blue fairy perched on his shoulder for a brief moment before turning his attention back to the picture. "That was America when he was a child. I'd looked after him then." He replaced the photo in the box and took out another one, not the least bit surprised when he found it was another picture of himself and Alfred as a child. "I guess this is where I stored all of the photos we took together when he was younger…"

The fairies descended upon the box, now thoroughly interested. Arthur started at first, afraid that the old photographs might get torn, but he was pleasantly surprised by the care the fairies treated the pictures with. Together they went through the entire box together with Arthur recalling various memories of when each photo was taken and telling stories from America's childhood. He felt his heart ache a little when they'd come to the last photo in the box. Was that really all? He had spent so many years raising Alfred, yet these were all the photographs he had?

"Arthur liked raising a baby." The pink fairy commented as they began neatly storing the photos away in the box again.

Arthur felt his face heating up as a paternal smile formed on his face. He gave a nod and scooped up one of the fairies who had tumbled into the box by accident. "I did, but it was a lot of hard work. Alfred got harder to deal with as he got older…" He recalled Alfred's teenaged years and how the term "brat" had become an ordinary part of his vocabulary.

"Arthur wants another baby?" the yellow fairy in his lap questioned, looking up at him with large curious eyes. She had stopped helping and had decided to let her sisters do the rest of the work (sometimes she reminded Arthur a bit of someone he knew).

Arthur found himself choking again, there must have been some stray dust in the air from the photo box. He put his hand over his heart and fought back the tears in his eyes as the particles stung at them. "W-Where did that question come from?" He stared wide eyed at the little yellow fairy.

The fairy merely smiled widely. "It wasn't a question. It's a fact. Arthur wants another baby."

Arthur had to think about this for a moment. Sure, there were days where he missed the sound of a child's laughter, the innocent shine of their eyes, or how they'd seek him out when they were frightened by a nightmare and curl up beside him in bed at night, but that didn't mean he wanted to raise another nation. No, that was too much work and he was far too old to be doing such things. The fairies simply didn't know what they were talking about. "That's ridiculous. I've had my fill of children over the years and I certainly don't need another baby to look after." With a moment's hesitation he silently added, "Alfred is already enough of a handful."

The fairies all stopped what they were doing and seemed to be silently conversing with one another before they broke into quiet but rapid chatter in their native language. Arthur felt like asking them what was going on, but it was all over as quickly as it had started. Five smiling little faces stared up at him, each with a mischievous glint in their eyes. "Arthur Kirkland wants a baby." They all said together, and with that they vanished, leaving Arthur to finish cleaning up on his own.

- - -

The cleaning had taken the rest of the day and it wasn't finished until long after the sun had set. Arthur had worked right through dinner time, determined to finish this task within a day's time. The fairies last words were distracting and not the least bit comforting, but he tried to push it out of his mind. Why had they disappeared like that? Were they planning something? He half expected to find a baby on his doorstep the next morning and was very relieved to find that there was nothing there but the morning paper. The fairies were no where to be found. In fact the only reason Arthur knew they had been there that morning was the fact that there was an unusual amount of fairy dust in his bed. He had to strip the sheets off and shake them out to get rid of all of it. "At least it's stopped raining…"

He headed back inside and into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea to drink while reading his paper. But as he sat down to try and catch up on the news in London he found his mind wandering back to what happened yesterday. He knew it was never a good sign when fairies got that look in their eyes. It almost always meant they were up to no good. But certainly his fairies wouldn't do something he would get angry at them for, right? His fairies only ever wanted to help him, after all (even if they did abandon him to clean up the mess in his room alone yesterday), they had nothing but good intentions. He was so distracted that he'd read the same article heading four times before realizing it and had barely heard the knocking at his door.

Hurriedly, he jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over the chair he had been sitting in, and fled to go and see who was at his doorstep. The knocking only got louder and more persistent the closer he got, and by the time he was three feet away he was positive as to who was on the other side. He wrenched the door open and glared up at his visitor icily. "You couldn't wait one more bloody moment for me to open the door?"

Alfred raised a hand in greeting and flashed him an award winning smile. "Yo, old man!"

Arthur could already feel a headache coming on. He had half a mind to slam the door on America's face, but being the gentleman that he was he politely stood aside and allowed the other nation to enter his home. "What are you doing here?"

Alfred gave a shrug as he took off his bomber jacket and tossed it onto the couch, only to fall beside it shortly after he kicked off his shoes. He grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and flipped the television on to begin some mindless channel surfing. "I had nothing better to do, and I figured you missed me."

"Well, you figured wrong." Arthur ground out as he slammed the door shut and went to fetch Alfred's shoes. Honestly, couldn't he just leave them by the door like a normal person? Why did he have to be such a slob?

Alfred tore his eyes away from the television to watch Arthur sit down beside him. Despite what the Briton might say, he knew he was right. "I can't be wrong. I'm simply too awesome!"

"You're an annoyance, is what you are." Arthur replied grumpily. He sank further into the couch and stared blankly at the television, not paying attention to what was on the screen.

Blue orbs stared curiously at the shorter nation, wondering just what was on his mind. Slowly and quietly, Alfred slid down the couch and wrapped an arm around Arthur's shoulders. He was rewarded as the Briton leaned his head against his broad shoulder and heaved a sigh. That was strange in itself, usually England would push him away and curse at him for making a move like this. Though cuddling on a couch with Arthur was relaxing and all, Alfred felt it was his duty as the hero to find out what was troubling his father figure. "Alright, what's up? You never let me hold you like this, you usually just hit me and call me names."

Shaken from his temporary trance, Arthur looked up into Alfred's eyes. They hadn't changed one bit since he was younger. They were still as blue as the sky, screaming out for freedom and the ability to soar with the birds. Sometimes he felt nostalgic when he stared into them. "It's nothing," he lied, not wanting to worry the other. "Just something the fairies said, is all."

There was a moment of silence…and then Alfred burst out laughing. Arthur could feel the anger rising as he pulled away from the American and smacked his shoulder as hard as he could. "Why are you laughing, you git?! This isn't a joke! It's something I'm really concerned about!"

Alfred continued laughing for several more minutes, rolling around on the couch as Arthur pummeled him, screaming curses into his ear and pinning him down until his laughter stopped completely. Blue met green as the two stared at each other and the smile faded away from Alfred's face to be replaced with a look of concern. "What did they say to you anyway?…"

Arthur grit his teeth. It figured that he'd get a response like this from America. He would be made fun of until the other realized just how serious the situation was and then suddenly England would become top priority. "Maybe I don't feel like telling you now, you little prat."

The American only gave a shrug and shifted Arthur's weight on top of him. He was starting to realize what a compromising position they were in. Arthur's hands were clasped around his wrists, pinning them down to the arm of the couch, and their faces were just inches apart. "If you don't feel like telling me then it must not be all that important," Alfred started, his eyes giving off a gentle look. "Knowing you, you're probably getting yourself all worked up over nothing. I mean, that's what you do every time I say something stupid and we get into a fight over it."

He hated to admit it, but Alfred was right. He was getting all worked up over nothing. So the fairies had said something a little unsettling, big deal. It wasn't like they were going to set out to ruin his life or anything. He hadn't seen neither hide nor hair of them all day so they'd probably already forgotten about it and were off wrecking havoc somewhere else.

America's teeth nipping at his neck quickly brought England from his thoughts. He felt a warm, wet tongue run over his skin and gave a shiver, suddenly realizing what a compromising position they were in. His eyes locked back onto Alfred's and he gave a playful glare. "I suppose you know exactly how to distract me from my problems, don't you?"

Alfred gave a sly smile, running his hand up Arthur's spine to rest at the back of his neck. "Of course," he replied, a hint of lust in his voice. "I always know what to do with you when you get all worked up, Iggy."

Despite how much he hated the nickname, he allowed it to be uttered. Besides, it wasn't like he could do much to stop it, seeing as Alfred had pulled his mouth down on top of his own and was now kissing him fervently. He melted into the kiss, closing his eyes and allowing himself to rest upon Alfred's body. Yes, this was exactly what he needed to distract himself from the meddling of fairies.


	2. Chapter 2

**Draw A Circle**

_Chapter 2_

Thoughts of mischievous fairies were the furthest thing from his mind seeing as the past few weeks had presented Arthur with something else to worry about. Lately he hadn't been feeling all that well. No, in fact he'd been feeling downright miserable. It seemed he had contracted some kind of terrible stomach virus that had turned his mornings into nothing but a pure torture experience. As soon as the sun started to peak its head over the horizon, the bile would creep up his throat and he would bolt from his bed toward the toilet. He spent every morning throwing up whatever substance he had last eaten, brushing his teeth vigorously afterwards. But vomiting wasn't the only strange symptom that had plagued Arthur Kirkland. His appetite had been insatiable lately and he just couldn't find enough food to fill him up. His kitchen cupboards were going bare faster than when Alfred spent time with him. This horrified him to no end because it meant that he was slowly starting to lose his trim figure. Suddenly he knew how Alfred felt on a daily basis.

Arthur had started researching his sickness like crazy over the internet, in medical books, and anywhere else that he could gather information. Every possible ailment was no good, nothing seemed to match up. All of his symptoms pointed to something that was just preposterous and he kept telling himself that this couldn't possibly be what was wrong with him. But as the weeks dragged on and his health didn't improve he began to wonder if it was really that farfetched. He knew he must be insane when he found himself at the local grocery store buying something that he thought he'd never hold in his hands. He paid for it hastily and dashed from the store determined to make it back home without bumping into anyone he knew.

Luckily, he hadn't been stopped or questioned by anyone and had made in home in record timing. Arthur took the stairs two at a time (nearly falling on the way up), scrambled into the bathroom, and shut and locked the door behind him. He leaned with his back to the door, his hands trembling as he stared down at the package they held. It was shaking so much that he could barely read the instructions, but who needed to read them anyway? Even men knew what to do with these, he knew how they worked, he just couldn't believe he was actually about to do this.

After many deep breaths he had finally succeeded in taking the test and was now perched upon the toilet seat waiting for the results. His foot thumped nervously against the tiled floor, green eyes trained on the clock hanging on the wall. His breathing was abnormal, but that was to be expected at a time like this. The Briton knew there was nothing he could do to calm his nerves, he would just have to wait and see what the test said.

- - -

Surprise visits appeared to be the thing to do lately, his schedule certainly made time for it. Alfred had the next few days off and had nothing planned until the United Nations meeting over the weekend, so he figured he would drop by and visit Arthur (though "dropping by" probably wasn't really the correct term to use because he had to take two taxis and a plane ride to get there). The blonde haired nation stood on Arthur's doorstep, knocked, and waited to be answered. Now, patience never was a thing Alfred had grasped quite well, but really, weren't people supposed to answer when there was a knock at their door? He had been waiting for nearly five minutes now and there was still no sign of Arthur. Becoming slightly worried, Alfred figured he could let himself in just this once, and to his surprise the door was unlocked. That was odd in itself, Arthur always kept the door locked. 'Well, he must be home then…'

"Hey! Arthur? You home? It's me, Alfred!" He called out as he entered and took his shoes off by the threshold. Once again, he received no answer. His concern rising, Alfred began checking every room of the house, finding all of them to be empty until he came up the stairs. He noticed a light flooding through the bottom of the bathroom door and gave out a sigh of relief. Arthur was only in the bathroom, that was why he didn't answer the door.

"Arthur! You scared me, old man! I thought something bad happened." Alfred laughed to himself as he stood outside the bathroom door. He had expected some kind of witty retort, and when none came he pressed his ear to the door and called out again. "Arthur? Are you in there?"

The silence was deafening. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and his palms started to sweat. This wasn't normal, Arthur usually answered him even if he was on the toilet! He would at least get yelled at for disturbing the Briton's privacy. But today there was nothing. Alfred knew that something was wrong, very wrong. He tried turning the knob but it wouldn't budge. "Arthur! The door's locked! God damnit, Arthur! Are you okay?!"

He was going to have to break the door down. It was the only way to get in there and find out what happened to the English nation. Alfred stepped back and prepared to perform a very heroic feat. With one swift kick, the door swung open and he rushed inside. He had expected to find his favorite Briton sprawled out on the bathroom floor but Arthur stood leaning over the countertop, his head down and his body shaking slightly. Nothing appeared to be wrong with him. He didn't look hurt, only terribly shocked.

"W-Why the hell didn't you answer me?!" Alfred was starting to get angry now. If Arthur wasn't in trouble then why the heck couldn't he have let him in? "I thought you were hurt or something!"

Arthur didn't even acknowledge him, he just kept staring down at nothing (or at least Alfred thought it was nothing).

The American decided to try a different approach. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Again, he didn't receive an answer, but this time at least he got a response. Without meeting his eyes or moving his body at all, Arthur picked up the object he was staring at and thrust it into Alfred's large hands. "W-What's--" Alfred stared down at the stick-like device for a good minute before realization hit him like a sack of bricks to the head. He did the first thing he could think of; he started laughing. "This is some kind of joke, isn't it? You can't possibly think you're--"

"It all fits," Arthur had found his voice at last. "The fatigue, the vomiting, increased food intake…weight gain. Everything fits."

Alfred didn't take his eyes off of Arthur as the British man went to sit down on the toilet seat, feeling that his shaky knees could no longer support his body. "You've been sick and you haven't told me?"

"That's not important right now," Green eyes locked on the tiled floor and he felt his stomach lurch at the thought of it. "What is important is that I now know the reason."

"Arthur, you can't be--"

His head snapped around and he gave Alfred one of the fiercest glares of his entire life. "Shut up! Just shut up! I'm pregnant, alright?! Nothing you can say will change that, you stupid git!" Arthur was so upset that he didn't even feel the hot tears streaming down his cheeks. His heart clenched. He was terrified, simply terrified.

Alfred had fallen silent. For Arthur to yell at him like that meant that this must be pretty serious. This was no joke, he wasn't lying or tricking him, this was one hundred percent the truth. He stared down at the test in his hand and thought to himself. These tests were wrong sometimes, but they never messed up the results badly enough to tell a man that he was carrying a baby. Besides, knowing Arthur, he had probably taken at least two more of these.

There was no way around it. If he was going to be a father he might as well get used to it. "I-It.. It's not so bad. I mean, I thought you liked kids."

By this point Alfred had buried his head in his hands, not even bothering to wipe away his tears. "Yes, I do like kids, but not when they're growing inside of me! Besides, I can't care for this child alone." Before Alfred could even get a chance to reply, Arthur lifted his head up and said in a very sullen voice, "I have to get rid of it."

The pregnancy test was thrown at the wall, breaking into a thousand pieces. Alfred stomped over to Arthur and jerked his head up so that the Briton was looking him in the eyes. "You will NOT kill our child. Who the hell said you would have to go through this alone?! I'm going to be here every step of the way! I'd never leave you alone to suffer through this! When the hell are you going to get it through your thick skull that I love you, Arthur?!"

His eyes went wide as the breath was knocked out of him from the bone crushing hug Alfred pulled him into. Slowly, he brought his head down to rest against the broad shoulder of the one he loved. His arms came up to encircle around Alfred's neck, pulling the man tighter against himself.

"You don't really want to terminate this baby, do you?…" Alfred's soft voice asked, trembling slightly.

Arthur gave a soft smile and shook his head, hugging on tighter. "I-I don't t-think I could even if I w-wanted to…"

A smile broke out on the American's face for the first time since receiving the news of his child's existence. "Then why don't we keep it." It wasn't a question so much as it was a statement.

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat and mumbled into Alfred's neck. "I just don't want to be a bother to you…you're so young, Alfred. Too young to be tied down because of a child."

The beautiful sound of Alfred laughing bounced off the tiled walls of the bathroom and the American's fingers were running through the Briton's messy locks. "Honestly, I couldn't think of a better way to spend the next nine months."

Arms loosened as Arthur released Alfred from his grip to pull back and stare into his eyes. "You…You mean it?"

It nearly broke Alfred's heart, seeing how weak and vulnerable Arthur seemed right now. He kept smiling, knowing that it would reassure the British man that he meant everything he was saying. "Come on, can you really say that we weren't going to be spending the rest of our lives together? We'd want kids sooner or later. Why not sooner?"

Damn him. Stupid Alfred. Why did he keep bringing up good points lately? Perhaps he was smarter than he let on. Arthur felt his heart calm down, his breathing slowly beginning to return to normal. The tears stopped flowing and he took this chance to wipe at his eyes. He felt the smallest of smiles tug at his lips, a blush spreading over his cheeks. Alfred seemed so sure about all of this, not an ounce of fear laced his voice. He was nothing but confident as far as Arthur could see. A weight seemed to have been lifted from his chest as the realization sank in; he didn't have to go through this alone. If Alfred was by his side then maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Draw A Circle**_

_Chapter 3_

Sunlight streamed in through the bedroom window to fall upon the slumbering face of one Arthur Kirkland, who squinted and rolled away from the light. His brows furrowed as he pulled the covers over his head. He didn't want to wake up yet, not when he was so comfortable. The British nation always slept better whenever he had Alfred to accompany him.

The two had stayed up into the late hours of the night talking about their recent discovery. Arthur felt uncomfortable at first, he had started squirming and shifting his weight a lot on the bed, but he eventually calmed down. Alfred was bright eyed throughout the entire conversation, asking all sorts of questions about babies and pregnancy. Arthur had honestly never seen him this interested in anything before besides fast food and rocket ships.

"How big is it right now?"

Arthur shrugged his shoulders and leaned back against his pillow. "Probably microscopic. I don't believe I'm that far along."

"How long until we can see it? I mean, this lasts nine months, right?" Alfred's eyes were locked on Arthur's stomach, causing the Brit to squirm under his gaze. Somehow, Arthur knew that Alfred expected the baby to start showing in a matter of days as if it were some sprouting flower.

"Thankfully not for a few months," Arthur smiled nervously, a pale hand going to his stomach. With all the attention he was getting he was starting to feel as if he had already started showing. But he knew that was only his mind playing tricks on him. "Yes, it lasts nine months. Before long I won't be able to fit into my clothing…"

Alfred snickered and stifled a laugh behind his hand. Arthur's head whipped around so that he could give him a venomous glare. The American couldn't help imagining a very pregnant Arthur waddling around the house in some kind of maternity dress. He would be complaining about back pain, or his feet swelling, or how he didn't feel attractive anymore. "Don't worry, I'll still think you're awesomely sexy even if you get really fat."

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned a lovely shade of crimson, replying in a dry tone. "Thank you for the comfort, Alfred."

Needless to say, Arthur had some terrible dreams that night about his stomach swelling up to the size of a watermelon. Thankfully they were only dreams, and when he awoke the next morning he found his stomach to be the same size it was the night prior. Heaving a sigh of relief, the Briton grabbed his boxers from the floor and stood up to pull them on. He then searched the room for the shirt he had been wearing last night, but found that it was no where in the surrounding area. He decided to wear Alfred's shirt instead (even though it had a rather vulgar expression of "FUCK YEAH!" written across the front, in red, white, and blue, of course) and found it to be rather large. It worked like a nightgown for him, which pleased the British nation as he descended the stairs.

Upon entering the kitchen, Arthur was shocked to find a full breakfast spread covering the table, with everything from pancakes to biscuits. There was even a large cup of tea sitting at his place waiting for him along with the American who smiled and greeted him as he entered the room.

"Mornin' Arthur!"

Arthur tried not to show his shock. Instead he calmly took his seat and began filling his plate. "Good morning, Alfred. Did you make all of this?"

"Course I did!" Alfred's chest puffed out proudly, eyes sparkling. "It's awesome, isn't it?"

Arthur hesitantly nibbled on a piece of toast, shifting in his seat and avoiding eye contact. "Why is there so much? It isn't like there's anyone here besides the two of us. No need to make enough for an army."

A wicked grin spread across the American's face. He brought his coffee mug (which had a doodle of a rocket ship on it) to his lips and took a sip before answering. "You're eating for two now. That means you should eat at least as much as I do! I want my baby to be well fed."

He should have known. Arthur's eyes narrowed dangerously, feeling insulted. "Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I have to stuff myself the way you do. I don't feel any more hungry than I normally do." He knew this was a lie, his stomach even added a protest by growling loudly enough for Alfred to hear. _Damnit!_

The American let out a hearty laugh. "See? The baby agrees with me!" He started shoveling eggs into his mouth, eggs covered in ketchup. Arthur felt his stomach churn slightly as he watched. He hoped that his new hormones would at least grant him enough mercy so that he didn't wind up with Alfred's eating habits. "Dig in!"

It seemed he had no choice in the matter. Alfred practically forced food down Arthur's throat, demanding his child get the proper nutrition. By the time breakfast was over Arthur had eaten so much that he felt he may explode. He was thankful for the boxers he chose to wear this morning, which expanded with his full stomach. As he lounged in his chair and digested he realized that at least one good thing had come from all of this; Alfred was clearing the table. Not only that, but he was washing the dishes! Arthur thought he may die of shock. The younger nation insisted that Arthur relax and take it easy, saying that he was going to start doing more around the house so that Arthur didn't have to. Perhaps being pregnant did have its advantages.

- - -

The meeting was going smoothly thus far. There had been no back pain, no nausea, and Arthur had felt completely comfortable in his seat at the United Nations conference. Alfred was, of course, sitting right beside him, casting him worried looks every few minutes as if he expected the Briton to spontaneously combust during the meeting. Ever since he had found out the news of their expected child, Alfred had barely let Arthur breathe let alone left his side. He was there every morning when Arthur made his rounds to the bathroom to puke his guts out, he made him whatever he was craving for breakfast (this morning it had been pancakes with cheese whiz and lemonade, to which Alfred commented "I think the baby made your sense of taste even worse, if that's possible!"), he was slowly becoming an expert at getting the kinks out of Arthur's back, and he satisfied every sexual need the Briton had (they had been getting stronger lately. He figured it was due to the pregnancy).

He had to admit, Arthur hadn't thought it would be a good idea to come to the United Nations conference today. He had had a particularly bad bout of nausea that morning and he was feeling very tired, but he knew that the World needed him to be there. Everyone was required to attend, no matter how little they actually got accomplished during these sit downs. Alfred had wanted to tell everyone right away about the baby, but thought better of it when the British man threatened his life. Arthur didn't want anyone finding out his little secret. He was determined to keep it from everyone for as long as possible, which, by the look of things, wouldn't be very long at all.

At some point he had begun stroking the tiny bump in his abdomen, giving it a loving smile when no one else was looking. Though he had been utterly terrified when he had first found out, Arthur had quickly grown attached to the child that was growing inside of him, even if pregnancy was probably the worst experience ever.

He was completely distracted from the meeting when he felt his stomach start doing flip flops during one of Germany's rather serious lectures. Arthur bit his lip and rubbed soothing circles against the bump, hoping to calm it down. It wasn't working. He was starting to feel nauseous again and it was already midday! 'Why the bloody hell do they call it 'morning sickness' if it could happen any time it damn well pleases?!' The fact that Italy was eating a rather large bowl of pasta didn't help matters either. The smell had wafted towards the Briton, causing the bile to rise in his throat. He couldn't stand this much longer. That sauce smelled _terrible_! He had read in an article online that the sense of smell was heightened during pregnancy, but he never imagined it to be _this _bad. The smell of Italy's pasta sauce had never bothered him before, though seeing as he was now a few weeks into his pregnancy his symptoms did seem to be getting stronger.

He felt it at the back of his throat and could stand no more. Bolting upright and out of his seat (nearly knocking it over in the process), Arthur held a hand over his mouth and politely addressed the table. "E-Excuse me!" He was barely able to get the words out as he felt himself gag. His legs started working before his brain had even given them a command and he fled from the room, feeling the stares of the World on his back.

Said stares turned to Alfred once the British nation was out of sight.

"Veee! Is England okay?" Italy asked, concern evident in his usually happy features. He had even put down his fork.

"'E was looking a bit green," France commented. "I do hope our Angleterre is feeling alright." The devilish grin on Francis' face betrayed his words.

Alfred hesitantly got to his feet, giving the room a nervous look. "H-He hasn't been feelin' all that great lately," he explained before switching his expression to a more serious one. "Since I'm the hero I'd better go and check on him!" Before anyone could object, Alfred had left the room and set off to find the British nation.

The room fell silent once again.

"Maybe he just needs some pasta to settle his stomach, vee!"

- - -

Alfred threw the door to the men's room open and was instantly greeted by the horrid sound of Arthur retching violently in the nearest stall. The smell was atrocious, but Alfred was a hero and wasn't phased by such matters. He stepped into the stall and stood behind the Brit, patting his back and swiping his bangs from his eyes.

"It's alright," he whispered. Arthur was shaking in his arms, covered in sweat. "I'm here."

Arthur gave him a nod to acknowledge his presence before leaning over the toilet again for another round. Perhaps his latest craving hadn't agreed that well with his stomach.

Alfred lay his head against Arthur's shoulder, one arm looped around his stomach. This was how he comforted Arthur every morning, every time this happened. It worked like a charm and soon Arthur sank back into Alfred's arms. Alfred held him there, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and gave him a kiss between his eyebrows. He then reached out to flush the toilet, waiting until Arthur had stopped shaking to help him to his feet.

"Are you going back to the meeting?" Alfred asked, leaning on the sink counter and watching Arthur wash his mouth out.

Arthur spit into the sink, running the water to wash it down. No matter how hard he tried it was always a very difficult task to get the taste of vomit out of ones mouth. "I'm still feeling rather queasy. But this is a United Nations meeting, it isn't like I could just return home."

"You have an excuse, Arthur," Alfred replied, a look of concern crossing his face. "Look, I'll tell the others that you have some kinda bad stomach virus of somethin'. Then we could go home and you could get some rest."

Arthur grabbed some paper towels and wiped his hands and mouth with them. "I don't need you to look after me all the time," Turning, the British man smiled at the American. "I'm an adult, remember? Besides, we would look awfully suspicious if both of us were to leave at once."

"But--"

"You stay here," Arthur tossed the paper towel away and headed for the door. "The people need their hero, after all."

Before he had the chance to open the door, Alfred's arms had encircled him again. "Be careful, alright?"

Arthur smiled, turning around in the embrace and staring the man he loved in the eyes. "I'll be fine, you silly git. Now get back to that meeting." With this said, Arthur leaned up, gave Alfred a quick kiss, and was gone.

Alfred stood in the bathroom for a few minutes, smiling at nothing, his hand on his lips. When had their relationship reached this level? It was like they were a married couple. It comforted him and made his heart swell up tightly in his chest.

- - -

Being Alfred meant you were a lot of things. It meant you were heroic, independent, free, a glutton, caring, sometimes intelligent, but most of all it meant you were oblivious to those around you. So, seeing as Alfred _is _Alfred, he hadn't looked before stepping out of the bathroom and had thus slammed right into someone.

"Ow!" Landing hard on the ground, he clenched his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead. "Sorry, I wasn't looking where I wa--"

"It's okay," came a very timid voice.

Alfred opened his eyes only to be met by a pair very identical to his own; the eyes that belonged to his younger brother, Matthew. Smiling, Alfred helped his brother to his feet and pat him on the back. This wasn't the first time he had knocked him over. "Matty! In a rush to go to the bathroom?"

The Canadian nation shook his head, curl bobbing. "I came to check on Arthur. Is he feeling better?"

Alfred's face fell. He felt nervous all of the sudden. His brother was generally concerned for the former father and all he could do was lie to him about it. This wasn't right. Heroes don't lie! "H-He has a stomach virus. He went home." Or maybe they do.

The concern was evident in Matthew's eyes. His grip on Kumajirou tightened and his glasses slid down his nose. "Oh…well, I hope he feels better soon. He really didn't look well."

This was breaking his heart. Alfred couldn't take it anymore! How could he lie to his own brother? Besides, this was his niece of nephew that were talking about. Didn't Matthew have a right to know seeing as he was going to be an uncle in only a few month's time?

"I'd better head back to the meeting then."

"Wait, Matty!" Alfred reached out and grabbed his brother by the shoulder, promptly stopping him from taking a step further. He couldn't believe he was about to do this. Arthur was going to _kill him._

"_What is it, Alfred?"_

"_Meet me at McDonalds after the meeting," Alfred whispered. "I'll explain everything."_

_A/N: *wipes the sweat from her forehead* This chapter was a pain! At first the middle part was the beginning, then I decided I didn't like it and started writing it all over again. Then I took the old chapter and combined it with the first and added on this ending. Thankfully I have the rest of this pretty much planned out, so I shouldn't have THAT much more trouble._

_Sorry I left off at another cliffhanger. This one is necessary. It'll keep you guys guessing. Will Alfred crack under the pressure and tell Matthew everything? Or will he just keep lying?_

_Leave a review if you can! Thanks for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

Draw A Circle

Chapter 4

Alfred raced down back alleys, narrowly avoided crashing into trashcans, and nearly broke his neck slipping on an old soggy newspaper that was wet with London rain, all in a futile attempt to catch up to his younger brother. It was a wonder he hadn't dropped the bag of McDonalds he was clutching so desperately, but then again he wasn't the personification of America for nothing. He hadn't even spilled a drop of the soda that he had somehow managed to continue sipping while he ran. Yes, he truly was awesome.

A flash of blonde hair came into view as Alfred skidded into the town. Damn Matthew! He wasn't supposed to know all the short cuts to Arthur's house as well as the American did! Then again he was pretty sure Francis knew at least a dozen other ways to the Briton's house that even Arthur himself wasn't aware of. In any case, at this rate Alfred was done for. Arthur would kill him the instant he burst through the front door. Shoving another burger in his mouth, Alfred tried to savor the taste of what could very well be the last meal of his life.

The sun had already begun to set by the time he reached the mansion-like house that stood so far away from all the others. Alfred had been afraid to enter Arthur's home on various occasions, but this was different. This time he was almost sure he would be struck down dead the second he walked in. With Arthur's new found hormones nothing was impossible; he may even be able to overpower a hero!

Gulping down the last of his soda, Alfred bravely reached for the door handle, turned, and pushed. So far, so good. No axes had fallen on his head, no fist to the face, the ground hadn't fallen out from beneath him. Maybe he wasn't going to die after all!

He turned his attention to the rest of the sitting room and spotted his lover and younger brother sitting on the couch sipping tea. Arthur didn't exactly look pleased but he also didn't have a murderous expression on his face when he locked eyes with Alfred. He did, however, seem a little annoyed. The look in his eyes told the American that they would be having an in depth conversation later that night.

"Hello, Alfred." The Briton ground out, tea cup to his lips.

Alfred all but ignored him, choosing instead to stomp over to the couch to scold his brother. "I told you not to do anything rash, Matty! I said it was a secret between just us!" He could practically feel Arthur's anger radiating from the other side of the couch. He would have preferred to keep his testicles, thank you very much.

Large baby blues looked up at him from a much more innocent face than his own. "I had to see for myself. I thought you might have just been making it up like you did with that alien you said lives in your basement," (Alfred promptly proceeded to shout "Tony is real!", but was completely ignored) Matthew took a sip of tea and smiled. "Besides, Arthur is alright with it. He said I have a right to know, since I'm gonna be an uncle and all."

Alfred's shock was evident as he gaped open-mouthed at Arthur. The British nation cleared his throat and set his tea cup down on the table at his feet. "Though I'm certainly not pleased with the way he found out, Matthew did deserve to know the truth." Green eyes locked on Alfred as he sank into the couch beside Arthur. "He offered to help us, Alfred."

The Canadian nation gave an enthusiastic nod. "I'll baby sit whenever you guys need me to. I promise I'll be the best uncle I can be!"

Alfred had to smile at the image of his brother cradling his new born child in his arms. Matthew had always been very kind and caring, Alfred had no doubt that he would make the perfect uncle and be the best babysitter for their child. Before he knew it, he was lost in thoughts of his expected child. Alfred hadn't even noticed that Arthur had lifted up his shirt to show Matthew the small swell in his belly. He snapped back to reality when Arthur took his hand and laced their fingers together.

Matthew's eyes were large as he looked over his former father-figure's stomach, hand hesitantly reaching forward to stroke the stretching skin. He had never felt a pregnant belly before and was more than a little nervous, but once his palm made contact with Arthur's skin he smiled warmly and laughed. His niece or nephew was right there, right under his hand. He could practically feel the tiny movements from inside the British nation. "This is amazing…"

Arthur laughed and smiled down at the Canadian. "The morning sickness surely isn't," he replied, thinking of how sick he had gotten in the bathroom at the United Nations conference. "The weight gain isn't all that pleasant either."

"But it is amazing," Alfred agreed with his brother, placing his hand beside Matthew's on Arthur's stomach. Right now there was barely enough room for both of them, but in a few weeks time that would change. "Our baby is right here, growing inside of you. That's awesome!" Leave it to Alfred to ruin a perfectly good moment with childish terminology.

Curious blue eyes looked up into Arthur's face. "Arthur, do you think all nations can carry babies?…" Matthew's voice was a little softer than usual and he seemed nervous, something that only Arthur had caught.

"I haven't the foggiest idea," Arthur replied truthfully. "I honestly haven't a clue how this happened. But if all nations could produce children I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been the first."

Matthew blinked and withdrew his hand, looking thoughtful as he leaned back in the couch. "Maybe Yao would know more about it. He's been around longer than any of us."

Arthur sat up straight and pulled his shirt down, effectively stopping Alfred from petting his stomach any longer. The British nation turned a stern face to the younger of the North American brothers. "Now Matthew, you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone else about this. You have to understand, no one else can know."

Once again Matthew looked confused. "But why? I'm sure the others would be just as happy as I am for you!"

Arthur leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands. Alfred could tell that he was blushing fiercely because the skin of his ears started to heat up and turn a cherry red. "Because it's downright embarrassing! I'm a gentleman, and gentlemen don't carry children."

"Apparently they do," Alfred interjected, laughing a bit and lounging beside the Briton. He seemed almost proud at the fact that he had knocked Arthur up! How dare he! "They're going to find out sooner or later, Arty. You should kinda tell them before you're the size of a watermelon."

Arthur's head snapped up, green eyes staring venomously over at the American. "Don't you dare tell me what I should do, Alfred F. Jones! This whole thing is your fault to begin with! You've practically ruined my entire reputation and bound me to this house for the next nine months! I should castrate you right here and now!"

Alfred's eyes were so large that he felt like they might fall out of his skull. He had shrank so far back into the couch that he was practically inside of it. Matthew took this opportunity to come to his brother's rescue (since he was such a kind sibling). "Arthur, shouting probably isn't very good for the baby."

Acidic green eyes turned on the younger brother only to calm instantly. Even when he was in a hormone induced rage Arthur could never raise his voice to Matthew. He was simply too precious. The Canadian's smile seemed to vanquish all of the anger in the Briton until he let out an agitated sigh and muttered a soft apology, stating that what he had done wasn't very gentlemanly.

The conversation had gone back to normal after that, with Matthew asking more questions about the baby and Arthur answering them to the best of his ability. Surprisingly, Alfred stayed quiet, still shaken from Arthur's earlier outburst. Just what was that all about? Was that one of those dreaded mood swings he had heard about that accompany pregnancy? Arthur had screamed at him before, but his eyes had never turned that shade of green in his entire life. For whatever reason, that particular outburst had frightened Alfred a lot more than any of the others. If this was the way Arthur was going to act whenever he got angry then Alfred was in for a very rough few months.

- - -

The weeks trickled by without incident and little by little Arthur slowly started to show. Alfred couldn't have been more delighted by this. He had taken to speaking to Arthur's stomach whenever the opportunity was presented. It was starting to grate on the Briton's nerves since the American insisted on speaking in a baby voice to their unborn child, who Arthur had explained "wasn't some dimwit who wouldn't understand proper English."

Arthur had grown grumpier as the weeks dragged by and he had good reason too. His back was starting to hurt him if he stood up for too long, his feet would swell up if he walked too far, not to mention he was restless from being cooped up in the house for so long. Worst of all was the fact that he could no longer perform in bed like he used to. Hell, he couldn't even pleasure himself anymore (which Alfred found absolutely hysterical).

The weight gain was almost overwhelming. Arthur no longer fit into any of the slacks he owned and found that he had to borrow Alfred's on a daily basis. The American had gone out and bought more pants for them both since he found that he was doing a lot more laundry and getting less back each week. The two simply couldn't go on sharing the same pairs of pants (especially because Arthur had popped a few of the buttons off on several pairs).

Strangest of all the happenings was the fact that Alfred found that he could no longer control himself whenever he was around Arthur. It was obvious that something was different about the Briton, but Alfred had no idea why he suddenly found himself so attracted to him! He couldn't go a day without practically attacking the pregnant man and demanding sex. This problem hit its height late one morning when Alfred was watching television downstairs and heard a shout from Arthur to come upstairs. Alfred heaved a sigh and muted the rather loud action movie he had been watching, climbing the stairs and turning into the bedroom he had come to call his own.

"Yeah? What do y--" He stopped dead in his tracks, holding onto the doorframe for stability. Standing beside the bed, wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts (that was completely undone, mind you) was Arthur. He held a pair of pants in his hand, a sour look on his face.

"Did you wash these in warm water again? I think they've shrunk!"

Alfred's eyes were busy going over every curve of the British nation's body, noting how the light from the window behind him illuminated his figure. He could feel himself start to get hard the more he looked, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. Arthur was irresistible to him lately! Like some kind of highly addictive drug that Alfred had become hooked on seemingly overnight! He had become some forbidden fruit and Alfred was dying for a taste.

"Alfred? Alfred, are you even listening to me?"

Surely he wasn't, but the American crossed the room anyway to stand before his prey. Almost forcefully, he grabbed the jeans from Arthur's grasp and threw them aside, his hands sliding down the sides of Arthur's body.

The British man gave a gasp but didn't pull back. "A-Alfred! What the he--"

A harsh kiss was the only way to shut him up. It also gave Alfred the opportunity to push Arthur over to the bed and gently lay him down atop it. The kiss had turned more passionate after he had gotten Arthur exactly where he wanted him. Alfred's tongue pushed its way bossily into Arthur's mouth, sliding over his teeth and tongue, mingling with its counterpart until Arthur's tongue decided to fight back.

Arthur's eyes slid shut as his body gave in to Alfred's desires. He had no idea what had gotten into him, but with these kisses who could complain? Still curious, the second Alfred pulled back Arthur breathily asked "What was that all about?…"

Alfred stared back at him as if he were supposed to know the answer. The smile he wore was almost angelic, nearly to the point of melting Arthur's heart. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now?"

A crimson blush spread over Arthur's face, squirming as Alfred began planting a trail of kisses down the center of his naked body. Alfred's lips eventually met with the growing bump in Arthur's abdomen and he made sure to kiss every inch of the stretching skin lovingly. "Alfred, I'm not beautiful," Arthur practically whispered. "I-I'm fat…"

Alfred gave the bump another kiss before lifting his head to meet Arthur's gaze. "You aren't fat. You're pregnant. There's a difference." With this said he went back to showering Arthur's body with kisses.

That was when Arthur realized that Alfred simply couldn't resist the sight of him naked and pregnant. He would have to be more careful in the future if he wished to avoid being sexually attacked by the man above him. Alfred's lips brushed over the head of his cock and that last thought quickly flew from Arthur's mind. His breath hitched and he squirmed about a little more, gripping onto the sheets as Alfred started teasingly licking his member and taking it inch by inch into his mouth.

"A-Alf--Alfred!"

Alfred laughed around the cock in his mouth, making Arthur moan even louder. The sheets started to bunch up as Arthur bent his knees and bucked his hips, pushing himself deeper into Alfred's mouth. The American didn't choke, instead he started humming, causing the most sensational vibrations to run through Arthur's body. Arthur gave a strangled moan at this and Alfred decided to silence him by snaking a hand up his body and pressing two of his fingers to the man's lips. Arthur let him in without hesitation, tongue slipping and sliding over the digits to get them good and wet. He started mimicking Alfred's motions and movements, doing to the fingers what was being done to his dick.

Using his free hand, Alfred fumbled with the button of his jeans until he got it undone. He was able to slip out of the pants and in a matter of seconds they lay on the floor beside the pair he had taken from Arthur earlier. His boxers were even easier to get rid of, and soon he was just as naked as Arthur was. Without opening his eyes he blindly fumbled in the bedside drawer for the tube of lubrication, not even needing his sight to find it. This was when he took his hand back from Arthur, earning a whimper from the shorter man.

Arthur pushed himself up weakly onto his elbows, watching Alfred unscrew the cap of the lube. The American poured a decent amount into his hand which disappeared behind Arthur's stomach as soon as it was lowered to coat his penis. Arthur cursed his stomach for being so big. He could hardly even see the tip of his erection over it and now he was missing Alfred touching himself! Yes, this was definitely another thing he despised about pregnancy. His disappointment was quickly vanquished though when a finger pressed itself up against his entrance. Head falling back and eyes closing, Arthur relaxed himself to allow Alfred's finger to enter.

Alfred loomed over the man below him, smirking almost devilishly as he added the second finger and began scissoring the two apart. Arthur wriggled beneath him, letting out tiny gasps each time the tips of Alfred's fingers brushed against his prostate.

When Arthur had thought this had gone on long enough he opened his mouth to voice his complaint (and a few more moans). "S-Stop…t-teasing."

Alfred couldn't help but smile at that, fingers halting in their places. He stretched out until he was able to give Arthur a little peck on the lips. "Alright, sweetheart. I'll give you what you want."

Pulling his hand out, Alfred grasped Arthur's small hips and positioned himself, pressing the tip of his cock gently into Arthur's stretched entrance. The Briton's eyes screwed shut and he hissed as Alfred slid inside, gripping the sheets so hard that he could have torn them. Alfred stopped for a moment to allow Arthur to get used to the feeling, waiting for the pain to subside before he started a rhythm for them to follow. Arthur may have not noticed, but lately during their love making Alfred had been going much easier than usual. He knew it wasn't possible for him to hurt the baby, but he still worried and began treating Arthur more delicately. His eyes glanced down at the rounded belly pressed to his stomach and he smiled, vaguely wondering if the baby was enjoying this as much as its parents.

Arthur's throat had gone dry only minutes after they started and he was gasping for air, hips practically convulsing to try and get as much pleasure out of this as possible. The hormones truly were driving him mad. It was impossible for him to calm down once he got turned on now. The only way to satisfy him was to have sex until the feeling dissolved. He figured it was tied in to his mood swings, but neither he nor Alfred complained about it.

He soon felt teeth on his neck and his arms came up to drape over Alfred's back. The younger nation bit down on the skin, sucking and nipping until he left a pattern of red marks that would match the ones that Arthur had left on Alfred's back with his nails. To the best of his ability, Arthur wrapped his legs around Alfred's hips and found that the cock inside of him instantly struck his prostate. Yes, this was the right angle. Now if he could only hang on long enough. Alfred sensed that Arthur was starting to get tired and wrapped an arm underneath his bottom half to help support him, diving deeper inside the warmth that was his lover.

Arthur opening his eyes and just stared up at Alfred as he made love to him. It was something he loved to do. Alfred's eyes always held the most fascinating emotions, emotions that Arthur couldn't quite name at the moment being as his brain was somewhere else entirely.

His cock began to throb, precum dripping from it to get lost between their bodies. Arthur felt himself starting to shudder and looked desperately into Alfred's eyes. "I-I'm going t-to--"

"Me t-too!"

Both sets of eyes clamped shut and Arthur's head tilted back as his body was wracked with shivers from having exploded all over both of their stomachs. Alfred had buried himself as deeply as he could within Arthur, hips bucking and body shaking as his warm cum filled Arthur's body.

The two remained still for a moment, just panting and staring into one another's eyes. Then Arthur's legs slipped from Alfred's waist to fall back down onto the bed, thoroughly exhausted. His chest heaved and his arms came up to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Y-You really t-tire me out these days."

Alfred laughed as he pulled out and lazily flopped over beside the Briton, taking the smaller man into his arms. "S'cause you're so old."

"Actually, I was referring to the pregnancy."

"That too."

The American looked them over, surveying the damage for a moment. The stomachs and chests were covered in sticky white fluid. "We really made a mess…"

Arthur smirked, pulling back to stare Alfred in the face. "You can lick me clean later. For now I just need to nap."

A whine emitted from Alfred the second Arthur closed his eyes. "Aw, hell, old man! You're gonna make me hard again!"

- - -

He had no idea what time it was when he next opened his eyes, but he was willing to bet it was nearly dinner time. Some time during their little nap Arthur had wriggled out of his arms and was snuggled comfortably on his side of the bed still in a deep sleep. Alfred gave a lazy smile and sat up to stretch, his legs draped over the edge of the bed. He really had worn Arthur out this time.

Pulling on his boxers, Alfred decided to go downstairs and get started on dinner. He was deterred the second he stepped off the last stair, eyes locked onto a slip of white that was laying in front of the door. Raising a brow, the American walked closer and discovered an envelop with his name on it. His curiosity only grew at this and he decided to sit down on the couch to open it. As he crossed the spacious sitting room he wondered how whoever sent this letter knew that he was with Arthur instead of at his Virginia home in the United States.

Tearing the envelop open, he pulled out a folded letter which he opened and proceeded to read.

"Dearest Amerique,

I hope you are well. I will not spend time with nonsense, I'll get right to the point. I know Arthur's secret and if you wish to keep it hidden from the others then you will meet me in Paris at this address tomorrow afternoon at one o'clock.

Have a safe flight. I cannot wait to see you.

~Francis"

Alfred nearly did a double take. A thousand questions raced through his mind that he could demand to be answered tomorrow when he met with the Frenchman. Wait, when did he decide he was going to meet with Francis? Oh, that's right. If he didn't then Francis would blab Arthur's secret to the whole world, giving Arthur another reason to castrate him.

Diving off the couch, Alfred grabbed at the phone and quickly dialed in a number. His heart thudded in his chest as he listened to it ring and ring. Finally, after what seemed like hours, a small voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Matty, it's Alfred," he all but screamed. "Remember how you said you'd baby sit?"

Matthew made a startled noise at the volume and speed of his brother's voice, nearly dropping the phone. "Y-Yes, but that wouldn't be until the baby is born. Wait, w-what's go--"

"It isn't the baby I need you to watch," Alfred explained. "It's Arthur."

- - -

A/N: Oh boy, you guys are gonna KILL me for this one. I know, I know, another cliffhanger, mobs with pitchforks and torches, etc etc. Listen, this is how this one needed to end, I'm sorry. Be happy there was porn, alright? I wrote this one as quickly as I could because of all the people begging me for updates. I'm half asleep over here and it's the middle of the damn afternoon! (Oh geez, am I turning into Arthur? I sound cranky!) You're keeping me from my girlfriend! Feel loved, damnit!

Next chapter will be out as soon as I can get it done. There may be a delay since my friend from Maryland is coming for a visit and I also have a few parties and cosplay events to go to. But I promise that I won't abandon this one!

Review, please! It helps me to go on! Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Draw A Circle**

_Chapter 5_

It wasn't the ringing of the alarm clock that woke him up the next morning, nor was it the singing of birds outside his bedroom window, or even the sound of Alfred snoring beside him (which there seemed to be an absence of). What woke Arthur up that morning was the growling of his own stomach and he found it to be a rather pathetic wake up call. He curled himself up into a ball and tried to will the hunger away in favor of a few more minutes of sleep but the sound just continued to grow in volume. Sitting up, the Englishman threw the covers off of himself and glared down at his slightly swollen belly. "Alright, alright. I bloody hear you, you little bugger." Great, now he was talking a being who wouldn't even understand him much less answer him back. Surely this pregnancy was slowly draining what little sanity he had left after all his long years. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, collecting a pair of boxers and one of Alfred's sports jerseys. "I'm up, I'm up. We'll go eat now."

The pleasant smell of maple syrup met his nose as he descended the stairs. Supposing that Alfred had decided to wake up early and make breakfast for him yet again (it was becoming a daily occurrence as of late) Arthur headed into the kitchen happily. "You know, you don't need to keep doing thi--"

Stopping dead in his tracks Arthur let out a gasp and pulled his jersey further down his body, face flushing a deep shade of crimson. "M-Matthew! What are you doing here?!"

The Canadian in question turned away from the stove, spatula still in hand, and smiled warmly at the Briton. "Oh, good morning, Arthur! I made you some pancakes!"

Arthur glanced over to the kitchen table, realizing that it had been covered in a breakfast spread so big that the two of them couldn't possible stand a chance of eating it all. The Englishman slinked into the chair nearest him and sat down, still tugging uncomfortably at his night clothing. "Thank you, but where's Alfred?"

Matthew stiffened visibly before setting the spatula in the sink to wash later and heading over to join Arthur at the table. "He said he had to catch a plane. He called me over because he didn't want you to be alone."

Arthur couldn't help but glare and mutter curses under his breath. So Alfred had left him a babysitter? Had he forgotten that Arthur was the one who raised him? He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. "Any idea when he'll return?"

Matthew shook his head and began serving himself a stack of pancakes, drizzling them in maple syrup. "He just told me to keep you company…"

An awkward silence fell over them, leaving Arthur squirming in his seat. "I-I'm sorry. I must look a mess."

Matthew lifted his head to look him over, taking in the sight of a rather sleepy looking Arthur whose hair was even more unruly than usual. Being the polite person that he was, the Canadian shook his head and continued to smile. "You look fine. How do you feel?"

Arthur ran a hand through his hair and heaved a sigh. "Hungry," he replied, getting up and heading over to the fridge to retrieve a bottle of ketchup and a jar of pickles. Sitting back down, he set to work squirting the ketchup over his stack of pancakes and topping them with a few pickles before cutting them all up and taking a bite.

Matthew cringed and nearly gagged on the pancake in his mouth as he watched Arthur gobble down his concoction. He decided not to bring the matter up and chose to continue asking about the baby instead. "So, it's getting big, eh?"

Arthur's face turned red once again and he took this opportunity to sip at his orange juice. "I could barely fit myself in a pair of Alfred's jeans. I haven't the foggiest idea what I'm going to do in another few weeks. I'm running out of clothing."

"You'll be happy to have these then," Matthew got up and dashed into the sitting room, returning seconds later with several boxes. "I figured you'd be needing new clothes, so I got them for you."

Arthur gazed down at the boxes in his lap for a second before taking the top off of the first and peering inside. A pair of black pants were inside, their band made of a very elastic material. "Maternity clothing? How did you get these, Matthew?"

The Canadian continued to smile as Arthur rifled through the rest of the boxes, examining his new clothes with curiosity. "Simple. I went to the mall and bought them at a maternity store. I just hope they're the right size."

Arthur felt his lips tug into a smile without even realizing it. "Even if they don't, I'm sure they're much better than the ones I have currently." Setting the boxes on the chair beside him, Arthur turned his smile on Matthew. "You're really too kind. You didn't need to do this for me."

Matthew shook his head, golden curls bouncing wildly. "It was the least I could do seeing as I was the one who told Fran--" He slapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from going any further, blue eyes wide with fear.

Arthur's brows furrowed, his heart racing at the mention of the Frenchman's name. "Told Francis? Told Francis _what_?" When he received no answer, his anger began to rise as did the volume of his voice. "Matthew, what did you tell Francis? What does he know?"

The younger nation looked close to tears as he spoke through the hand covering his mouth. "I-It was an accident, honestly! I never meant to tell him!"

His fist hit the surface of the table before he had a chance to stop himself. Arthur was at his feet, glaring into the eyes of the boy he helped to raise, teeth grit in frustration. "_What_ did you tell him, Matthew?"

The Canadian took a step backwards, his back hitting the refrigerator in the process, feeling much like a trapped mouse. He had never been on the receiving end of one of Arthur's mood swings and he didn't ever intend to be. Better to fess up now then, huh? "I-I told him about the baby!"

Arthur's entire world stopped. Time seemed to stand still as he slowly sank back into the chair behind him, his legs unable to support him any further. Matthew continued chattering nervously as if hoping to rectify matters. "I-I didn't mean to, but you know how he is! He had been curious, he'd known something was up from the start! Then one night he was over my place, I didn't even want to let him in, and the next thing I know he was kissing me and whispering things into my ear and I just couldn't help it! He kept asking what I knew and it just slipped out!"

"Just slipped out?" Arthur had found his voice but his eyes remained locked on the kitchen floor. "It just slipped out? You accidentally told that damn wine bastard that I was pregnant and now he knows my deepest, darkest secret to hold over me until the day I die? You have no idea what he could do with this information, Matthew! I can't believe you!"

Shaking his head again, Matthew bravely took a step forward, his voice seeming more steady this time. "Alfred's gone to fix it. Francis sent him a letter last night asking him to meet him in Paris."

Once again this had earned a curious look from the Englishman causing the Canadian to stumble onward. "I-I don't know what it's about, but I'm sure Alfred can fix it! Don't worry, Arthur. By the time Alfred gets back everything will be better!"

This was something Arthur had serious doubts about. It wasn't that he didn't believe in Alfred, it was more of he knew how the Frenchman worked. Francis would undoubtedly ask for some kind of ransom in order to keep him quiet, a secret like this was too big of a deal not to threaten to spill to the world. Arthur just hoped that Alfred would know how to keep their secret safe until such a time as matters had been sorted out properly.

"I hope so, Matthew. I hope so."

- - -

The French language had never been a strong point of Alfred's. His tongue always got tied whenever he tried to speak foreign languages, especially the romantic kind. So it was with great difficulty that he navigated himself through the streets of Paris that afternoon in order to find the small restaurant mentioned in Francis's letter. He found the Frenchman sitting at a small table for two at an outdoor café, one leg crossed over the other, smiling up at him over a cup of coffee.

"Ah, Amerique, I'm so glad you were able to make it."

Alfred narrowed his eyes at the older nation as Francis motioned to the seat across from him. The American sat down, his expression not softening in the least. "Alright, Francis, get to the point. What do you want from me in order to keep quiet?"

A hurt look came over the features of the Frenchman's face. Letting out a gasp, Francis uncrossed his legs and leaned in closer to the American. "Amerique, you honestly don't think paying me off will solve this little matter, do you?"

Alfred blinked in confusion. "What?"

Francis waggled a finger in Alfred's face, taking a bite out of one of the pastries set on the table. "It is not money I am after, nor is it anything that you or Angleterre can give me. I have not called you here for that."

Even more lost than he was a second ago, Alfred furrowed his brow and tried to sort this through verbally. "You don't want anything from us? Then why did you say you'd tell everyone our secret if I didn't meet with you?"

Calmly and caringly, Francis smiled at the man he had watched grow up from childhood. He could never do anything to harm Alfred, or Arthur for that matter. Honestly, he was hurt that Alfred would even consider him to be such a harsh person. "It is only the best that I desire for you and Angleterre. That is why I have asked you to meet me here." The confused look didn't fade from the American's face and so the Frenchman pressed on. "I have loved Angleterre for centuries, of this you know, but no matter what I have done for him he has only ever had eyes for you. All I am asking is that you keep him happy and safe, Amerique."

Alfred gave a slight nod, obviously still confused. He had known deep down that Francis had loved Arthur. There was no doubt that the two of them had an intense relationship over the hundreds of years they had lived, but Alfred had never once stopped to think about it. Francis truly loved Arthur, but he knew that Arthur had never really felt the same way towards the French nation. Arthur had told him long ago of all the past relationships he had been involved in, and he assured Alfred that the only reason he had ever gotten in bed with Francis was because he was lonely. He needed comfort and he found that in the bed of the Frenchman who had secretly been admiring him all these years.

"Now," Francis started, earning the attention of the American once again. "Do not misunderstand. My feelings for Angleterre have long since faded," a ghost of a smile came over that beautiful face of his. "But one can never fully let go of their feelings, oui?"

"I-I guess." Alfred stammered, jabbing a fork into the nearest crepe and watching it ooze out a jelly-like substance. "But you know I'd never do anything to hurt Arthur or our baby." He lifted his head and met the blue eyes that no woman (and some men) could ever turn away from. "I love Arthur more than anything in the world, I've already proven that to him."

"Ah, but how far are you willing to go for his love?"

The question caused him to pause. How far? That was simple, he would go to the ends of the Earth for Arthur. He would swim across an ocean, fly to the moon, pick a star from the sky, he would do anything if it meant keeping Arthur at his side for eternity. "What are you getting at?"

Francis smiled that coy smile of his yet again, the one that told everyone he had a trick up his sleeve. He folded his hands on the table top and smirked into the American's ocean blue eyes. "Would you marry him?"

Before he could even think the question over properly, before the words had even registered in his mind, his answer jumped from his mouth. "Yes." In all honesty, Alfred had never once thought of marrying Arthur. He was aware that same sex couples could be married in some of his states, but he had never dawned on the idea. He wasn't even sure nations could get married! Well, Berwald and Tino claimed to be married, but they never actually had a wedding. They had no physical proof that they were married to one another. Did that mean it was impossible for nations to be joined together in such a way?

"The thought has never crossed your mind." Francis smiled knowingly, taking another sip of his espresso. He licked his lips seductively before setting the cup back down on its saucer, his pinky cushioning the fall.

"No. No, it hasn't."

"It is because you two share a very special bond, marriage wouldn't strength this bond by much, but it would give Angleterre a sense of comfort, non?"

So Francis really did have nothing but the best intentions in mind. Alfred listened as he carried on, the idea of marriage becoming of more interest to him with every sentence. "Though he may not show it, Angleterre is probably very frightened. All his life he has yearned to prove how strong he can be without having to depend of anyone, but everyone needs someone to fall back on once in a while. You are his support, Amerique. You can do what I could not, therefore it will be your duty to prove to him that you will not abandon him. Prove how much he means to you."

"But why are you asking me to do this? I know you said you don't love him anymore, but still, the two of you hardly ever seem to get along. I thought you downright hated each other."

Francis crossed his legs once again and leaned back leisurely in his chair. The sunlight bounced off his wavy blonde hair, eyes shimmering as they locked onto the man before him. "Ah, but I am a nation of love, am I not?"

Alfred smiled.

- - -

Matthew's words floated through his head as he lay curled up on the couch in the sitting room, exhausted from all the new information he had taken in. So, Francis knew about his pregnancy, Alfred had apparently gotten a letter from the man last night and had fled to Paris because of some empty threat which Matthew assured Arthur wasn't going to inconvenience them in any way (supposedly Francis was full of crap), and now, to make matters even worse Arthur had learned that his long time rival and former bed-mate was sleeping with his beloved Canadian son! Matthew had admitted to falling in love with Francis some time ago but he had said that the relationship had only recently began. It took a lot of convincing, but eventually Matthew got Arthur to believe that he was being treated properly.

'If you do anything to hurt him I'll have your head, frog.'

A yawn escaped his lips, emerald eyes closing as he scooted his back further up against the couch. He had taken to sleeping on his side ever since the swell in his stomach had become prominent enough to be noticed through his clothing. Nights were often uncomfortable for him, but sleeping with his back propped up against the couch usually sent him into a blissful slumber for at least a good hour or so. The baby was moving inside of him, happy that its stomach had been filled with the delicious dinner that Matthew had generously cooked for them. Arthur ran a hand over his stomach, hushing the babe within and rubbing comforting circles into his stretching skin. This was yet another routine he had fallen into. In order to get the baby to behave and let him have a moment's peace he would have to first soothe it to calm it down. It loved hearing his voice, but it absolutely adored the sound of its daddy. Every time Alfred spoke to it, it would move around like a caterpillar attempting to escape its cocoon. 'I don't know what it sees in you, Alfred. Honestly, I find your voice to be quite annoying.'

With Alfred on the brain, Arthur was able to fall easily asleep, a smile on his lips and a hand on his stomach.

- - -

Alfred toed out of his shoes, setting his luggage down by the front door and smiling in the direction of the couch. Under a wool blanket, Arthur was curled up asleep on the couch. It was the perfect thing to see the second one arrived home after a particularly stressful trip to Paris.

As quietly as he could, Alfred tiptoed across the room and knelt down beside the couch to watch his lover sleep for a bit. From inside the kitchen, the American could hear Matthew washing dishes and tidying things up. Without even having to be called, Alfred knew his brother had peeked his head around the corner to welcome him home. The two had always had a weird kind of connection, almost like the ones twins were born with. They knew when they were in each other's presence without having to say a word, and they could also communicate through nothing but looks. In this way, Matthew asked Alfred how the meeting had gone. Alfred flashed his little brother a smile and the other's eyes had gone to the pocket of the man's bomber jacket, where the American's hand was fumbling around with something. Matthew gave a silent gasp, eyes widening as he stood his ground, too shocked to move or say a word.

Turning his gaze back to the sleeping blonde on the couch, Alfred reached out a large hand and threaded it through golden locks. Arthur subconsciously nuzzled into the touch, sighing contentedly in his sleep, his smile growing. Alfred smiled back at this, brushing Arthur's hair behind his ear as he bent down to whisper "Arthur, wake up."

His eyelids fluttered and his face scrunched up, not happy at having being woken up from his nap. But seeing as it was Alfred who had woken him, he would join the world of the living to greet him. Hazy emerald eyes fixed on the handsome American kneeling before him, feeling a second hand against the bulge of his stomach. "'Ello…" He mumbled sleepily.

The next thing he felt was a pair of warm lips pressed to his own and his eyes were closed once again for a brief moment. Arthur's cheeks reddened as Alfred pulled back, smiling tenderly down at him. "How're my boys?"

Arthur frowned but didn't budge from his spot on the couch. "I told you, it's a girl, and we're fine." He felt like asking how the meeting had gone, but he had been sworn to secrecy by Matthew. If Alfred found out that Matthew had been the one to tell Francis about the baby then he would surely find out about the relationship between the Canadian and French nation. Arthur had asked why it was such a big deal to let Alfred know about such things (the American was much more easier-going than the Englishman, after all), but all Matthew did was smile politely, promising that he would tell his brother on his own time.

"Arthur, you love me, right?"

Shocked by those words and confused as to why they had been uttered, Arthur sat up. "You know the answer to that fully well by now."

Something foreign was swimming in Alfred's eyes, something that Arthur couldn't read. Was he scared? Nervous? Upset? The Briton hadn't a clue as to what could be wrong, but he knew all was not well. What if Francis wasn't persuaded? What if the world already knew that he was with child?

"And," Alfred continued, his voice growing more quiet and shaky. "You remember what I said about us having kids sooner or later, right?"

Arthur gave a timid nod. "Yes, you said it was like we were practically married already. Why--"

In one swift motion, Alfred's hand had dove into the pocket of his bomber jacket, fishing out something from inside only to hold it so close to Arthur's eyes that the older nation had to lean back to get a better look at it. Sitting in the palm of Alfred's hand was a small, velvet, black box. Perched comfortably inside said box was a single ring made only of a strong band of silver. Upon further inspection, Arthur found the word "Forever" etched into the outside of the band. But this couldn't be happening. He was dreaming, wasn't he? Alfred hadn't come home, he hadn't woken up, and he certainly hadn't been about to propose to him. But when those words floated from Alfred's lips, Arthur knew that this was far from a dream.

"Will you marry me?"

Tears started spilling from his eyes before he even knew he was crying (he blamed it on the hormones, of course). He leaned forward to wrap his arms around Alfred's neck, pulling himself as close against the man as he could, choking on sobs and hanging on for dear life, one word repeating over and over again. "Yes! Yes!"

Matthew smiled, watching from his spot in the kitchen doorway. He wiped his eyes dry and sniffled a little as his brother and Arthur kissed, Alfred slipping the ring onto his lover's finger. He watched the kisses become more fervent, knowing that he had been forgotten once again. But it was different this time. This time he had felt that being forgotten was a good thing. It gave him the chance to slip out of the front door before he could intrude upon a more intimate and precious moment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Draw A Circle**

_Chapter 6_

About two weeks had gone by since Alfred's proposal and although the engagement had been a giant step forward it hadn't really changed either of their lives very much. The two barely spoke about what they would do for a wedding, Arthur only complaining every time the topic was brought up. The Briton had the right to complain though. It wasn't as if Alfred had to walk down the aisle looking like a beached whale! The baby was growing rapidly, and with its increased size Arthur was becoming more and more self-conscious. It took a lot of coaxing to just get a shirt off of him in front of the American. As imagined, it took even more to get Arthur calm enough for sex.

The two lay in bed one night, Alfred's snores echoing off the four walls of Arthur's bedroom, keeping the shorter nation awake well into the night. He grouchily glared at the wall in front of him as if it were the one making that horrid noise that kept him from falling into a peaceful slumber. Though he had known Alfred for nearly all of the American nation's life, the man was still a mystery to him. How he could beg Arthur for sex for nearly an hour and then abruptly give up and fall asleep with a smile on his face was something that the British man couldn't fathom. If their roles had been switched Arthur knew that he would be suffering from blue balls by now, but Alfred didn't seem to be bothered by anything at the moment. "Bloody git…"

His staring contest with the wall was becoming boring, boring enough to cause his eyelids to start drooping shut. Green orbs were nearly closed when all of the sudden the baby delivered a swift kick to his insides. Grunting and groaning, Arthur's eyes snapped open as he began rubbing circles into his belly. "Now what do you want?" He stared down at his stomach, speaking to it as he frequently did. He got another kick in response followed by the growling of his own stomach. How could he have not noticed that he was hungry? He guessed Alfred's begging had something to do with it (not to mention that the sexy dance the other preformed for him had proven to be rather distracting).

'Alright, so I'm hungry. But for what?'

The most dreaded thought popped into in his mind. A juicy piece of meat sandwiched between two soft seeded buns, topped with pickles, lettuce, tomatoes, and just a dot of ketchup. Large, soft (but not to the point of being mushy), salted fries would go well with it. Oh, and a fresh, cold, soda to quench his thirst. Oh! Oh! And one of those sundae-things Alfred always ordered, with the hot fudge, sprinkles, and whipped cream. A cherry on top would go nicely as well. He felt himself begin to salivate.

'Wait a minute…I can't possibly be craving--craving--THAT!'

Arthur shook his head free of the thoughts of nasty burgers, fries, and sundaes. No, he would never in a million years admit to wanting some of Alfred's fast food! That was simply preposterous! Who in their right mind would prefer food that was precooked to a nice homemade meal?! Alfred, that's who. Along with his entire nation.

More rapid kicks beat at the inside of his stomach, bringing him back to reality and into the situation at hand. He was craving burgers. Badly. So badly that his mouth hadn't stopped salivating. How could this happen?! Did this mean that the child would have an appetite like his lover instead of a dignified one like himself? Not only that, but would these cravings continue until the child was born? He would gain weight like crazy and start ballooning in no time!

Another loud growl rumbled his stomach, and coupled with a few more kicks it was enough to make Arthur pull himself up. He grunted again, glaring down at his swollen belly as he told it silently to hush. "Alright. I'll get you what you want. Just don't make this a daily occurrence. For the love of my body, please."

He turned and faced his sleeping partner, taking note of the blissful smile on his face as he dozed. How he hated waking Alfred from such a peaceful slumber, especially for something as silly as this. Nonetheless he tapped the American on the arm, whispering to him. "Oi. Oi, Alfred."

The blonde rolled away from the touch, nearly falling off the bed in the process. One leg hung over the side of the mattress, but Alfred slept on, moaning his displeasure at trying to be woken. This didn't stop Arthur from trying again.

"Alfred. Wake up."

Clamping his eyes shut tighter, Alfred wriggled under the covers and buried his face into his pillow. "Noooo."

Arthur glared down at his stubborn lover. Well, if he wasn't going to wake up easily then the British man would have to rely on more drastic measures. "It's an emergency."

Alfred jumped up and fell out of bed, mumbling in his half-awake state as he quickly collected himself and dove back onto the bed to grasp Arthur by the shoulders. "What is it?! Is it the baby?! Are you alright?! Did your water break?! Should I call the hospital?! Should I--"

"Come off it!" Arthur snapped, pulling his shoulders free from the man's death grip. "It isn't that kind of emergency."

Blinking several times, Alfred slowly began to calm down. His head lopped slightly to one side as he stared questioningly at his boyfriend. "Then what kind of emergen--Oooh." A large grin spread across his face as he straightened up, crawling on his hands and knees to press himself against Arthur's ever expanding frame. "I think I get it."

Arthur merely cocked an eyebrow at him, not looking the least bit pleased as Alfred practically crawled on top of him. "What are you going on about?"

Alfred's grin only widened, sleepy eyes staring seductively into the face of the Englishman. He ghosted a hand over Arthur's forest green boxers, purring into his ear. "Couldn't stop thinking about my offer, could you?"

"W-What?! N-No!" Arthur stammered, his face reddening. He tried to push the American off, but Alfred only pressed matters further.

"You thought you could last the night without me, but now you're so turned on that you need me to take care of it for you. Right, Iggy?"

"You bloody idiot!" Arthur shouted, slapping Alfred's hand away from him before he could slip it within the waistband of his boxers. "I'm far from being turned on! Think with your _other _head for once! I only woke you because I'm hungry!"

Alfred stopped instantly, blue eyes swimming with confusion and a slightly hurt look on his face. "Oh," he carefully climbed off of the smaller man and sat back on his knees before crossing his legs Indian style and smiling. "Why didn't ya say so in the first place?"

A sigh escaped Arthur's lips, his hand coming up to rub the bridge of his nose in a frustrated manner. "I tried to--"

"So, what'd ya wanna eat?"

Arthur opened his mouth to reply but quickly clamped it back shut. He couldn't admit to Alfred that he wanted a burger that easily, his pride as an English gentlemen wouldn't allow it. So instead he lowered his voice to a soft whisper, eyes locked on the sheets beneath him as a bright red blush spread across his face. "M-McDonalds."

The expected answer came from Alfred. "Wha?"

Clenching his fists, Arthur tried again, raising his voice just a tad. Honestly, could this situation be any more embarrassing? Here he was asking for the one food he detested more than anything else, and to make matters even worse he was asking Alfred of all people! Not only that, but Alfred had the audacity to ask him to repeat his need for the greasy fast food! He felt he could die any moment, then Alfred's voice broke through the silence in the room and he felt himself lose his temper.

"Wha? I don't have supersonic hearin' ya know--"

"I said I want McDonalds, you deaf bafoon!!"

The room fell silent once more after the echoes died down. Arthur gave it a good thirty seconds before lifting his head to look over at his companion. Alfred sat with the most shocked look on his face, his jaw dropped in an almost comical way. But, as was Alfred custom, the look quickly changed into one of his goofy smiles, and before Arthur could stop him the American had attached himself to the Briton's stomach.

"He wants burgers! This is the happiest day of my life!" Alfred cried, kissing at Arthur's stretching skin and rubbing fondly at the place where his child was nestled. "He's gonna be just like me!"

Arthur planted a hand on Alfred's forehead and pushed him away with all his might, eventually detaching the blue eyed man from around his middle. "For the last time, it's a girl, and if she turns out like you I may have to consider hanging myself. Now shut it and go and get me some food!"

Alfred sat bolt upright and gave a fake salute before collecting his clothes and haphazardly throwing them on. "What'd ya want?"

Arthur could feel a vein in his forehead start to throb. "I don't care! Whatever it is you always get. Just make sure there's enough of it."

Another mock salute was given along with a "yes sir!" and Alfred disappeared from sight. Arthur stared through the empty doorway, sighing as he sank back down onto his pillow. Green eyes shifted to peer down at his stomach and he found himself speaking to it yet again. "Your father is a complete moron," he gave a smile, ghosting his fingers down his navel. "With a heart as big as his appetite, which I pray you won't inherit."

- - -

Alfred had never made more trips to McDonalds in his entire life! After that first night of craving burgers, Arthur had sent him back for nearly all of his meals (and at the most peculiar times as well). It got so bad that the American was actually starting to detest the fast food restaurant a bit (but not enough to stop eating it, mind you). Alfred thought that maybe his sudden dislike for the burgers he came to love so much over the years had to do with the grotesque way the so called "English gentlemen" ate them. The Briton could devour one almost as quickly as Alfred could, and he almost never became full. Arthur had, of course, hated himself for this and was complaining more than ever, but the requests for the fast food never ceased. Alfred was starting to wonder if maybe it was true what they said about babies taking control of their mother's (or in this case father's) bodies. In a way it made them seem like little aliens, or parasites, taking refuge in a host's body and using it to feed themselves until such a time as they had grown and gathered enough energy to escape from their cushiony prison.

"Your tie is all crooked."

Alfred focused his eyes on the mirror in front of him, staring first at the reflection of Arthur in the doorway and then down at the tie around his neck which had somehow managed to become shaped like a pretzel. He gave his typical laugh and tried to untangle the thing, but it didn't want to cooperate. Sighing, Arthur crossed the room and wrenched the tie from Alfred's hands, slapping the American when he tried to snatch the item back. With his eyes focused on the task at hand, Arthur remained silent as he corrected the tie, tying it into a perfect knot and threading it through. Alfred could feel the swell of their child brush against his stomach as Arthur leaned in closer.

"You sure you wanna go through with this? I mean, you still might have some time."

The Briton remained silent as he pushed the tie into its final position, stepping back to admire his work for a moment. "You already know my answer, Alfred, and it's final."

All Alfred could do was nod, not having the chance to say anything further as Arthur had already turned tail and left the room. Smiling nervously to himself, he collected his bomber jacket and suitcase and followed the Englishman out of the house.

- - -

A heated debate was already taking place at the United Nations conference, though it wasn't about what most would suspect. Some way or another the topic of ponies had surfaced, causing Poland to abandon the doodles he was drawing on his manila folder and actually pay attention to what was going on. Korea had claimed that the miniature horses originated in his homeland and there wasn't a chance in hell that the Polish man was going to stand for that. The entire room was quickly lectured on the history of ponies by Feliks, putting Feliciano to sleep almost instantaneously (with his head in poor Germany's lap, nonetheless) and causing an eruption of smaller fights to break out amongst the other nations. Switzerland was yelling at the top of his lungs, bullets flying this way and that (it was a wonder how he got his guns passed security each time a meeting came around) as Lithuania begged him not to shoot his beloved Poland for being so forward. Germany would have reprimanded the fighting, had he not had a sleeping Italian in his lap. He stared down at Feliciano and frowned, knowing he didn't have the heart to wake the poor man from his slumber (especially not with that smile on his face), so he opted to try and ignore the fighting until it passed. France took this as an open invitation to start molesting Canada, which the timid nation didn't seem to mind in the least ("Francis, not in front of the others. Heehee!'). Seeing as his buddy was having so much fun, Spain decided to pull Romano into his lap, squeezing the protesting Italian as colorful curses rang through the conference room. A few of the nations were wondering where America and England were, since they were quite late already, but most were being kept entertained by the constant bickering, flirting, and utmost chaos going on around them. Yet through it all Greece remained asleep.

It came as a great surprise to everyone that it only took one look at Arthur for the entire room to fall into silence. Alfred closed the door after the two entered (forty three minutes late) and shuddered under the stares he was receiving, quickly scurrying after the Englishman as he took his seat, seemingly ignoring the fact that everyone's attention had been turned on him. He knew the reason for their stares, Alfred told him it would turn out this way, but there was no avoiding it. He couldn't miss out on a conference just because he was with child. The world was bound to find out sooner or later, one can't keep something as great as a child a secret forever.

Matthew smiled as his brother took up the empty seat beside him, though his nervous exterior had returned due to the silence in the room. Francis leaned back in his chair next to the Canadian, knowing he was about to watch one of the greatest shows imaginable. Though he was very supportive about this he just couldn't pass up the opportunity to see Arthur all flustered and embarrassed.

Russia was the first to break the silence, smiling over at the British man. "England has been putting on weight, da?"

Ukraine smiled nervously beside her older brother, leaning over to silently tell him that what he just said was very rude. Ivan still didn't understand and continued to smile at Arthur, the silence of the room not effecting him in the least.

"I get the feeling that there's more to this than we know," Estonia said, fully interested in the situation. He leaned forward in his chair, wondering when an explanation would present itself.

"Oui," Francis spread his arms out elegantly. He knew the others wouldn't stand a chance at guessing what was going on by themselves, so why not nudge them in the right direction? "Our dear Angleterre has never been known to have weight issues."

"Da," Russia added. "He is not like America."

Alfred shot a glare in Ivan's direction. Still, the Russian was pretty clueless as to why his comments were so offensive.

"Arthur-san, you are not ill, are you?" Leave it to Japan to be one of the only kind people here. All of the others just accused him of being fat. To this, Arthur merely smiled gently and shook his head. His heart was beating wildly against his chest. If someone didn't guess soon he was afraid he would have to blurt it out himself.

"Nothing's wrong with Iggy," Alfred spoke up, relieving some of the nation's concern. He then looked to his partner, blue eyes staring questioningly into emeralds. Arthur stared back intently, brows furrowing slightly in worry before he gave the slightest of nods. Alfred stood up from his seat, earning the attention of the room. On a normal day he would have been basking in all of this attention, but right now he was more nervous than he had ever remember being. He gave a sigh, the words coming together in his mind, but right before he could get them out he was interrupted by the least likely of persons.

"I'm pregnant."

The eyes of everyone in the room quickly snapped to the British nation as silence fell over them once more. This was only a temporary silence though, since Prussia interrupted it by bursting into laughter and falling out of his chair. Denmark snorted behind his hand, earning a glare from Norway for his stupidity, however, several other nations found the statement to be as funny as the Dane and the Prussian and had also burst out laughing.

Lithuania, Ukraine, Seychelles, and Finland had turned this large concerned eyes on the American and the Briton, not sure exactly what to think. Other nations like Sweden and German had remained their quiet selves, thinking instead of acting.

The anger inside of Alfred was to the breaking point by the second time Gilbert collided with the floor, knocking poor Latvia from his seat beside the German. "Everyone shut up!" He slammed his hands down on the polished table in front of him, the force sending some binders flying. It had the right effect though, since the nations had indeed shut their mouths and were once again paying him attention (although Denmark was still snorting and Prussia was currently crawling back into his seat for the third time). "How could you think that we'd joke about something as serious as this?!"

"C'mon, burger boy!" Prussia burst out. "You can't expect us to actually believe this, do you? You really got us good this time! Even I wouldn't have thought of pulling off something like this!"

France turned his seductive blue gaze on his former drinking buddy, being dead serious for once in his life. "Dearest Gilbert, our beloved Amerique is indeed being serious. What he says is the truth."

Canada backed this up by nodding, and once again the room fell silent. This time Spain was the one to break it.

"El bebito! That's wonderful, Arthur!" The Spaniard's green eyes shined as he flashed a smile at his former enemy. It seemed that the past could be forgotten when family was brought up, seeing as Antonio was very much a family man (he had tried proposing to Romano on several occasions, but was sadly turned down each time).

"Congratulations!" Tino chirped, smiling brightly from the other side of the room and taking Berwald's hand under the table.

After Finland had broken the ice, the female nations and some of the males were quick to follow with their words of congratulations. Arthur's cheeked turned a shade darker each time someone spoke to him, but Alfred merely smiled the entire time, grinning at the world like the proud father he was.

"But how is that possible?" Estonia brought up, forever the logical one. "It's never been known for nations to reproduce, has it?"

The younger nations turned their eyes on the older ones, but it was Japan who answered Eduard's question. "In all of history there has never been a nation who has given birth. Nations are not known to reproduce, no." Deep brown eyes locked onto Arthur, looking confused and concerned. "There must have been some outside interference. Arthur, did one of your spells go wrong?"

For the second time that day, Arthur was given the floor, yet this time he didn't feel nervous at all. He would answer every question to the best of his ability. Who knows, maybe one of the others would be able to uncover the reason behind his mysterious pregnancy. "I haven't been casting spells for months. This happened out of the blue one day, I don't think it's anything I did."

"Well, however it happened, it means that the baby you're carrying isn't a new nation, aru." China spoke up, stroking his chin in thought.

"That's true," Lithuania brought up. "If it were a new nation we would have found it wandering around like the way you guys found Alfred."

"A-And me," Matthew chirped, though no one seemed to hear him.

"Maybe it was like, one of your sparkly invisible friends that did it," Poland suggested, waving his hand dismissively. "They seem totally shady to me. I mean, we can't even, like, see them!"

Thankfully, Arthur hadn't heard Poland's comment, since Belarus had chosen the exact moment the Polish man opened his mouth to grab a hold of her brother's scarf and pull a knife on him. She held it to the Russian's throat, an evil gleam in her eyes as she screamed hysterically into his ear. "This means we can have babies, brother! Babies! Babies! Babies!"

This, of course, brought on a whole new topic of discussion between the countries that were coupled together. Spain once again tackled Romano to the floor, begging him to carry his children and shouting romantic Spanish sayings to the Italian who wanted nothing more than to catch fire and go up in flames. His younger brother had woken up in time to hear what all the fuss was about, and had turned chocolate eyes on Germany, who nearly melted into them.

"Vee, Germany, do you think we can have children too?"

Ludwig's face lit up as red as one of Antonio's tomatoes as he stuttered out a response to the best of his ability. "I-I-I--w-we--y-you--well, we can't ju--Let's talk about this later, Italy."

Finland and Sweden were talking silently to each other about what kind of children they would want. They, above all the other couples, seemed the most normal and calm. On the opposite side of the poles was Russia who had been pinned up against a wall by Belarus, her knife still held closely to his throat. "Give me your seed!"

"Lovi, you would make me the happiest man in the world if you'd have my children!"

"Shut the hell up, you damn bastard! I'm not having anyone's children!"

"Germany, would you want a boy or a girl? Because, I think I would like a little girl. Then she could wear the clothes that Hungary used to dress me in when I was little, remember? Oh yeah, you don't remember back then…"

"Yo, Austria! Wouldn't it be awesome if you had my child?! It would be like a miniature version of me, with just as much awesomeness as I have!"

Austria leaned away from Prussia, who had abandoned his seat and had gone to pester the brunette in the heat of the moment. Roderich realized his mistake a bit too late, for he was now leaning up against Elizabeta who was staring at him with a very dreamy look in her eyes.

Alfred and Arthur exchanged looks, neither knowing what to say. This entire discussion had started because of the two of them, but it had erupted into something much more, as nations were now actually trying to get their partners to agree to bare their children.

"Hey, Matty," Alfred tapped his brother on the shoulder, tearing him away from his conversation with Francis. "Now might be a good time to pass out the invitations."

- - -

A/N: I know what you're all thinking, and most of you are probably highly disappointed for where I ended this. Before I get any reviews I would like to apologize for how long this chapter took me to write. I've been having major issues with nearly everything in my life lately, but they seemed to have passed for now. I also want to apologize for any nations who may seem out of character to you. I tried my best, and I must say that I had some fun writing some of them. They'll be back in future chapters, though I'm not sure which ones.

Finally I would like to thank a dedicated fan from deviant art who drew me this lovely picture: .com/art/Draw-a-Circle-137880216 So thank you to SoDesuKa for the beautiful picture!! Also, to any artists out there, if you ever feel like drawing a scene from my fanfic, you have permission! All I ask is that you send me a link either on livejournal, , or deviantart since I don't have enough mpreg fanart.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed! Please review if you have the time!


	7. Chapter 7

Draw A Circle

Chapter 7

Houses whizzed by as the taxi cab drove passed them, their colorful exteriors becoming nothing more than a blur to Arthur's sleepy eyes. Half-lidded emeralds stared out the window of the cab, watching the raindrops drizzle down in awkward patterns until they slid out of sight. He pulled Alfred's bomber jacket tighter around himself, feeling the warmth envelop him further. The United Nations meeting had ended hours earlier and they were finally on their way back to Arthur's quaint little home in London. Of course, the second their plane had landed it had started to rain (resulting rather whiny complaints from the American nation). Alfred had generously offered the Briton his bomber jacket and Arthur had accepted it without even bothering to complain about the stench of fast food lingering on the leather. Now the two sat huddled together in the back of a taxi, thoroughly exhausted from their trip.

Arthur felt his head lob to one side, resting gently against Alfred's shoulder. Alfred pressed a kiss to the top of the British Nation's head, his arms tightening to squeeze Arthur a little tighter and provide him with a bit more warmth. Though the shorter blonde was nearly asleep, Alfred still had some energy left in him and wasn't ready to let sleep take a hold of him just yet. So, instead of shutting his eyes he focused them on the tired man in his arms, watching the street lamps illuminate Arthur's sleeping form every time they passed one. The bump where their unborn child resided wasn't as noticeable now that it was being covered by Alfred's jacket (Arthur had of course made sure to keep himself as well hidden as possible on their journey). Out of habit, Alfred found himself stroking the swell of Arthur's stomach, knowing fully well that he wouldn't have gotten the chance had the British man been fully conscious. It had always been an unspoken rule that neither of them should touch Arthur's stomach while out in public as to avoid any suspicion from passer-bys. Alfred figured that tonight was different since they were in the back of a darkened cab in which the driver could barely see anything below their necks.

"Ya know," Alfred started in a whisper. "If you fall asleep, I'm not going to be able to carry you into the house."

Arthur stirred lightly in his sleep, shifting slightly. "I'm sure you'll manage."

"I dunno. You're getting pretty heavy." Alfred teased. He was surprised when he wasn't pushed aside, in fact he had received no reaction from the Briton at all. That was when he heard the light sound of Arthur's breathing evening out and a smile was brought to his lips.

The cab drove up the long winding driveway of Arthur's estate, pulling up before the front door and coming to a stop. Alfred paid the driver, said his thanks, and bid him goodnight before getting out through his side of the vehicle. He walked around to the other side and opened the door, a smile gracing his lips when Arthur didn't so much as flinch as the cold night's wind tickled his face. The American collected his lover in his arms, made sure he had a good grip on him, and shut the door with his backside before heading up to the front door. He heard the distant sounds of the cab pulling out of the driveway as he juggled Arthur to get to the keys in his pocket, nearly dropping the things about four times before he was finally able to open the door and get them inside and out of the rain.

After closing the door and toeing out of his shoes, Alfred stared down at the sleeping man in his arms, wondering just what he should do with him. It didn't seem like Arthur would be waking up any time soon, so Alfred figured he would put him to bed. It finally struck him as he was climbing the stairs just how much weight Arthur had put on during his pregnancy. Alfred hadn't ever struggled to carry him before, but now he was getting tired and he hadn't even made it half way up yet. He assumed it was normal to gain this much during pregnancy, but just the fact that Arthur was heavier than he had been previously was still very foreign to him (since the Briton had never gained a pound during all the years Alfred had known him). Even though Arthur had been ballooning lately, Alfred didn't think any less of him. In fact, he felt more. Alfred couldn't keep his eyes off of the shorter nation. He found himself smiling whenever his eyes gazed over that beloved bump. He was filled with this bubbly feeling the first time he noticed that Arthur's belly button was finally protruding from his stomach (though he did laugh at first and had received a nice hand-shaped red mark on his cheek for doing so). Arthur had a certain glow about him lately and it was making Alfred happier than he had ever been in his entire life.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Alfred navigated through the hallway until he made it to their bedroom, blindly guiding himself over to the bed and setting Arthur down on top of it as he fumbled for the light. The lamps on the walls lit up just bright enough to cause Arthur to stir in his sleep, eyelids flickering until they opened slightly, a grunt escaping pouting lips.

Alfred laughed silently to himself as he sat down on the bed beside his fiancé, threading his fingers through Arthur's tussled hair and smiling down at him in apology. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

Arthur shimmied a bit further down the bed to give himself room to stretch, groaning once again before he stilled and looked over at Alfred. "When did we get in?"

"Just a few minutes ago." Alfred replied, reaching for the buttons of his shirt to rid himself of his clothing. He had always hated wearing dress shirts and ties (though he had gotten rid of that hours prior), he had been dying to get out of this outfit ever since the meeting had ended. Arthur wasn't the least bit surprised to find Alfred wearing nothing but his boxers just moments later.

Sitting up, Arthur slipped out of the jacket that was wrapped around himself and began untying his tie. "Mind helping me out?" Green eyes stared down at his feet, knowing fully well that he wouldn't be able to get his shoes off himself.

Alfred nodded, laughing heartily again as he helped Arthur out of the bottom half of his clothing. This wasn't the first time he had to help Arthur undress. Now that the Briton was in his third trimester of pregnancy, there wasn't a chance in hell that he could reach his feet to put his shoes on or take them off, so the task was handed off to Alfred, who didn't seem to mind in the least. Once he had undressed his bottom half, Alfred went to the drawer and handed Arthur one of his nightgowns, helping him in putting it on. Alfred had always found it hysterical that Arthur wore these nightgowns even before he was pregnant, but then again it was probably due to the fact that British people had no fashion sense (at least from an American point of view). Now he found it kind of cute, the nightgown having been filled out almost completely due to their growing child.

With the task of getting changed and ready for bed out of the way, Alfred climbed back onto the bed and rested his head against Arthur's stomach, one hand rubbing circles into the stretching skin. Arthur smiled down fondly at his fiancé, his eyes glazed over with exhaustion.

"So," Alfred started, breaking the silence. "I think everyone took the news pretty well."

Arthur threaded his fingers through Alfred's hair, watching as the other turned his face towards him. "I can't believe those gits actually want to have children. Why would anyone in their right mind put themselves through this?"

Alfred curled his arm protectively around Arthur's stomach as if he was afraid the baby would be offended by its mother's words. "C'mon, Iggy. You don't mean that. It isn't all bad."

Acidic green eyes glared back at hopeful sky blue ones. "Oh yes, Alfred, it isn't all that bad. In fact I quite enjoyed waking up in the morning to throw up or crawling out of bed in the dark to urinate. The pain in my back and the swelling in my ankles is very comforting, actually, and I just love that I'm ballooning like a whale!"

Alfred flinched at that. Alright, so maybe he hadn't thought that statement through enough, but there were still some highlights about the pregnancy and he was determined to show them to the British nation. Spreading his hand out, he rubbed large circles into Arthur's stomach, feeling the baby stir beneath his touch. "But you have a baby growing inside of you. You can feel him moving. He's something we both created. I can't even begin to imagine what that's like, Arthur."

Almost immediately, Arthur's eyes softened. The frown fell from his lips as he stared at Alfred's warm smile, his heart skipping a beat. Alfred really was in love with their child. He would do anything to make sure that it's kept safe until it's born, and then he would be the best father it could ever have. The baby must have been thinking the exact same thing as its mother, since it started kicking to show its presence. "She's kicking."

Alfred nearly sprang to his feet, his hands moving all over Arthur's stomach as he tried to locate their child. "Really?! Where?! I want to feel!" For whatever reason, every time their baby kicked, Alfred would always miss it. He had yet to experience what it felt like to have his child kick against his hand through its protective womb.

Grasping the American's hand, Arthur moved it along his stomach to the exact location where their baby was busy kicking away at his insides. Alfred's eyes were glued like magnets to his hand, the corners of his lips curling as he felt the first of many kicks. "I-I feel it! I can feel him kicking, Iggy!"

Arthur laughed at Alfred's enthusiasm, wishing his stomach weren't so big so that he could lean forward and kiss him. Damn his hormones for turning him into a complete mush. "Yes, yes. Now if only you could experience what it feels like from the inside."

Still smiling, Alfred's expression seemed to turn a bit thoughtful, his fingers stroking at Arthur's nightgown. "I would love to…"

- - - -

The day of the wedding came all too quickly for Arthur. The two weeks after he had broken the news to the World about his pregnancy had flown by, and now he found himself standing in front of a full length mirror in a church in London, tugging nervously at his white tuxedo. He was thankful that they had decided to have the wedding in London instead of somewhere in the United States, since that would have meant they would need to take a plane. Arthur really doubted he was up to traveling by plane in the last trimester of his pregnancy (he was barely up to walking anymore). Due to his connections, he was also able to find a priest who wouldn't be spilling their secret to the media and who was willing perform the ceremony.

His green eyes wandered over his form, turning to the side and huffing louder than he had intended. His stomach was so distended that there was no way someone wouldn't recognize him as pregnant the moment they laid eyes on him. He ran his hands over the bump, feeling the baby greet him with a kick. "You know how nervous I am, don't you, little one?"

Another kick.

Arthur smiled softly. He hoped that he remained this connected with his baby after it was born.

The door handle to the room jiggled and Kiku popped his head in, bowing as best he could from the other side of the door. "Ah, Arthur-san, sumimasen. I hope I didn't disturb you."

Arthur turned and faced his friend, shaking his head. "You didn't, I was just talking to myself." More like talking to the baby, but he didn't want to admit to anyone that he had been speaking to an unborn being who most likely didn't understand a word of what he had said.

Kiku opened the door wide enough to let himself slip through the opening, closing it behind him. He was dressed formally, wearing a black tuxedo like the rest of the wedding party. He wasn't at all put off by the fact that Arthur had wanted him to wear traditional clothes rather than a kimono. The Japanese man would have stuck out like a sore thumb had he been the only one in the wedding party wearing something from his country.

"How are you feeling?"

"Nervous," Arthur replied, rubbing more circles into his stomach (it had become a nervous habit as of late). He let out a shaky laugh as if to prove his point. "More nervous than I've ever felt in my entire life."

Kiku approached him and produced a box from seemingly out of no where. "It is frightening, becoming bonded to someone for the rest of your life, but you and Alfred-san were meant to be together. I am sure of it."

Arthur looked down into the see-through box, staring at the Sakura blossom inside. "I-Is that--"

"It is for good luck," Kiku explained, opening the box and taking the flower out. He then pinned it to Arthur's jacket and stood back to admire his work. A faint smile danced on his lips as he stared into Arthur's eyes. "I believe we should get going, Arthur-san. The ceremony is going to start any minute."

With his hormones acting up again, Arthur felt close to tears. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his tuxedo before nodding and sniffling a bit. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Thank you, Kiku."

- - - -

They had tried to make their wedding as traditional as possible, but with the couple both being men and the fact that they had no families of their own, it was a bit difficult. Instead, Kiku had walked Arthur down the aisle, though the Briton had insisted it was only so he could have someone to clutch in case he felt like fainted or falling over. Kiku, of course, had happily obliged. He was truly honored to have the privilege of walking his best friend down the aisle and also being his best man.

Arthur tried to avoid the eyes of every nation he passed, but he couldn't help staring into the pews a few times. He saw Feliciano dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief, Lovino sitting beside him looking as if he had mixed feelings about the situation, yet still having the time to glare daggers at Ludwig who had put a comforting arm around his significant other. Further down the bench he had managed to lock eyes with Francis, who simply smiled cheerily at him from between Gilbert and Antonio. Snapping his head back forward, Arthur continued walking.

That was when he met eyes with the person who he had been dying to see the most. Alfred stood at the alter, smiling tenderly at him as he walked towards him, blue eyes shining brightly as if they were the only source of light in the church. Arthur's heart rate sped up as Alfred extended his hand to him, helping him up the small steps that led to the alter. Over the American's shoulder, Arthur smiled at Matthew, who smiled back just as brightly as his brother. Two identical tears rolled from the Canadian's eyes, which he quickly wiped away using the palm of his hand. He sniffled and smiled again, giggling quietly to try and show his former father some support.

Finally, Alfred took Arthur's other hand, and the ceremony began. The couple had barely heard a word the priest had said, too busy staring into each other's eyes and listening to their hearts beating wildly in their chests. Alfred had wordlessly whispered comforting sentences to Arthur throughout the priest's speeches, stroking his hand with his thumb. Arthur had to wipe his eyes more times than he could count by the time it was time to give the vows.

Arthur swallowed hard. He had opted to say his vows first so that he wouldn't forget them as Alfred said his. His voice cracked somewhat as he started to shakily say the words he had prepared weeks before. "Alfred, from the moment I first set eyes upon you, I knew that you would have a huge impact on my life." He paused here for a moment, collecting his thoughts and calming his nerves. "You were nothing more than a toddler, but I had fallen in love with those eyes of yours. I don't know if it was intentional, but your eyes begged for me to take care of you, to become your brother, and so I became determined to make you mine," He took a breath, not looking away from Alfred's face. "As time went on, I watched you grow, and became more attached to you than I had ever intended to. There was something special about you, Alfred, something I never wanted to let go. I wanted you to be with me for the rest of my life, forever by my side." Flashes of that fateful rainy day played through his mind and Arthur reached up to wipe his eyes dry again. "We've had some rough times, and more than once I felt that I'd lost you completely. But these past few years we've reconstructed that bond we'd severed years ago, and now it's stronger than ever." His eyes shined with determination, head lifting a little higher than before. "And I really think we can make it, Alfred. I think we can live the life we've always dreamed of. With you by my side, I could do anything, including raising this child. I love you, Alfred F. Jones. I always have and I always will."

Silence fell over the church before a few sniffles could be heard (Feliciano blew his nose rather loudly), and then it was Alfred's turn to speak. His hands trembled slightly as they played with Arthur's hands in order to keep occupied. Alfred had always been wonderful at speaking publicly, but now that it came time to speak of his feelings for Arthur to the entire world he felt as though he had lost his voice. He smiled nervously, a shaky laugh escaping his lips. "I…don't have anything prepared," The sound of Matthew's teeth gritting at his brother's stupidity could be heard from behind him. "I don't have any fancy words to say like you did, Iggy, so I'm just gonna say what comes to my mind." Matthew exhaled, praying that his brother wouldn't screw this up, and Alfred continued with his speech. "You've always been the person I looked up to, even if your food sucks and you wear funny clothes. You were always there for me, Arthur, and you taught me how to grow up. Without you, I wouldn't be the awesome person I am today, and I thank you for that. But, over the past few years I realized that you meant more to me than what a father, brother, or friend ever could. I realized I loved you, and I was terrified. I thought it was wrong, after all, you were practically my parent. You had been the one to teach me everything I know, but at that time you still had one last thing to teach me, and that was how to love. I believe you did an amazing job, Arthur. You taught me how to care for someone, and now I'm going to use what I've learned to care for you and our child for the rest of our lives."

Arthur felt his heart clench in his chest. Tears started flowing freely down his eyes, blurring his vision and ruining his chance to see Alfred's beautiful smile. He heard the priest call for the rings, and Peter stepped forward from his spot beside Matthew, presenting a pillow with two golden bands laying in the center. Alfred and Arthur picked up the rings, rolling them in their fingers as the priest began to end the ceremony.

"Do you, Arthur Kirkland, take Alfred F. Jones to be your husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death due you part?"

Arthur nodded, opening his mouth and choking out, "I do." He took his ring and slipped it onto Alfred's ring finger.

"And do you, Alfred F. Jones, take Arthur Kirkland to be your husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death due you part?"

"I do," Alfred's smile was even brighter than it had been when the ceremony first began. He gently took Arthur's hand as if he were afraid the other would break, and placed the ring on its rightful finger, staring into shimmering emeralds the entire time.

"Then it is my pleasure to now pronounce you legally bonded," The priest smiled out at all of the countries in the audience. He had a feeling this wouldn't be the first time he was going to perform a ceremony like this.

Without even hearing that he had permission, Arthur had leapt into Alfred's strong arms, locking lips with the father of his child. Alfred caught him, carefully guiding Arthur's feet back down to the floor, kissing him passionately and holding him around the waist as Arthur's arms locked around his neck. The entire church erupted into cheers and applause (and some wolf whistles in the case of Gilbert), words of congratulations being shouted in every language known to man.

Arthur broke the kiss, still holding onto one of Alfred's hands, smiling up at the taller nation. "I love you,"

"I love you too," Alfred quickly answered, stroking Arthur's cheek with his thumb.

"Can we please get out of here now? My feet are killing me."

Alfred's laughter bounced off the walls of the church, echoing a couple of times before dying down. "Sure thing, Iggy. Just hang on tight, okay?"

Heavy brows furrowed together as Arthur stared in confusion at his new husband. "Hang on tight? What fo--" Before the words could leave his lips, Alfred had hoisted him into his arms, and began securely carrying him out of the church bridal style.

- - -

A/N: MUSHY CHAPTER FINISHED!! This honestly took me two shots to write. I wrote the first scene in one go, took a break, and then wrote the wedding scene all at once. It took me a while to have the time to go over the entire chapter and correct mistakes though, so it was done a long time before it was posted. Anyway, at first I HATED the vows, but after reading them over I suppose they're alright. I'm still not that happy about Alfred's. I honestly didn't know what to say for him. Oh well.

Alright, I need opinions. Who wants me to write the reception in? Or should we give Iggy a bit of a break to go home and rest? I have something else planned for later on, and then before you know it the birth will take place and this fic will be over! I'll really miss it…I haven't finished a story in a few years and I know I'm going to cry once this is all through. But don't worry, there will be oneshots with the baby and maybe even a sequel if you guys want! Also, I MIGHT be doing another fanfic featuring the Italy brothers, and I'm pretty sure you can already guess what it's about (since I only seem to write one kind of story now a days).

Hope you guys enjoyed! Please comment and review! Thanks a bunch and see you next chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

Draw a Circle

Chapter 8

He had been promised a nap. A nice, long, relaxing nap. But was he napping right now? With the blaring music, laughing nations, and the uncomfortable chair he sat in it certainly didn't seem likely. Instead of being tucked away in his bed, Arthur was staring looking out at his disaster of a wedding reception party, wondering why they had ever agreed on the idea of having one in the first place.

Alfred had chosen the music, meaning it was almost all American and would, without a doubt, get all of the nations up and on their feet. Tons of them were dancing about the room, laughing loudly, shouting things, and even screaming. Gilbert had gotten so wasted that he was hanging off of Francis, a slightly tipsy Antonio dancing beside them (Arthur didn't have to look very far to notice Lovino glaring at the drunken trio from across the room). Francis was expertly juggling both Gilbert and his champagne glass, having managed not to spill a single drop of the precious liquid while he danced to the music. Antonio was laughing hysterically and shouting Spanish sayings across the room to Lovino (who shouted back in crude Italian), his cheeks turning red from the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

In the center of the room was Feliks, dancing very provocatively next to a stunned Toris who wanted nothing more than to shrink back into his seat. A bright blush covered the Lithuanian country's face as the Pole grabbed him by the hand and pressed him up against himself, earning a squeak from the brunette. Arthur had to smile as he watched them, they really were quite adorable (or perhaps that was just the hormones talking). He had been dragged onto the dance floor a few times by Alfred, but he hadn't complained all that much until his back started aching and his ankles began to swell. Alfred had gladly escorted him back to his seat, making sure he was comfortable before going back to their guests. He would have stayed with the Briton had Arthur not asked Alfred to do the polite thing and return to the party.

Only a few minutes after he had been seated back in his chair, he felt something brush against his leg. Arthur jumped, his foot kicking at whatever was on the ground beside it.

"I would appreciate it if you would not kick me, comrade."

Arthur could instantly feel his blood freeze. Bending down the best he could, he popped his head under the table only to discover Ivan curled up as best he could, looking more than a little uncomfortable. He felt like letting out a scream (finding the Russian nation anywhere was creepy enough, but was the man actually hiding under his table right by his feet?!), but thought better of it when Ivan pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes glowing a bit menacingly.

"You will not be telling the Belarus I am here, da?"

"N-No," Arthur stuttered, watching Ivan's smile grow. He had to be the creepiest person on the planet. "B-But could you maybe find another table to hide under? It's a bit crowded under this one."

He had thought it was one of the worst possible things to say to the tall nation, but apparently Ivan hadn't minded. In fact, he was given one of the Russian nation's nicest smiles before he got up on all fours and crawled off passed Arthur and out of sight.

Arthur let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

- - -

He had kept his promise, of course, lying to Natasha when she came by asking him if he'd seen her brother. When she received the answer she hadn't been wanting to hear she merely frowned and continued on her search, a butter knife in hand. At least the other people who stopped by to speak to him were a little less creepy. Ludwig and Feliciano spent a good portion of the evening conversing with him (he'd always had a good relationship with the German nation ever since the second world war had ended. Who knew he and Ludwig had so many things in common?), congratulating him on his marriage, and asking him questions about the baby. Feliciano's hand kept reaching out to touch his stomach, unable to get enough of the kicks the baby was giving him.

"Vee! The baby likes me, Ludwig!"

Ludwig simply nodded and Arthur thought he could see the slightest hint of a blush spreading across his cheeks.

Later on, Alfred had broken away from the party and joined the trio, pulling up a chair and jumping in on the conversation. "I still say it's gonna be a boy. He'll be a hero just like his daddy!"

"If you don't know what it's going to be then how did you decorate the baby's room?" Feliciano chimed in, his hands still glued to Arthur's stomach.

Alfred and Arthur exchanged shocked looks, realization quickly setting in.

"We don't have a baby room…" Arthur breathed, wondering how he could have been so stupid as to forget to prepare a room for his child. How could they have gone all these months without making room for the new member of their family?

Feliciano finally tore his eyes off of the baby bump when he heard the news. "Vee! Ludwig and I can help you set one up!"

Ludwig looked just as shocked as Alfred and Arthur, having never been expected to be dragged into such a thing. "Feliciano."

"Alfred and Ludwig can clean out a room," Feliciano started making the plans in his mind, thinking fast. "And I can paint and decorate! We can go shopping and get everything you'll need! It'll be so much fun!"

Alfred was the first to recover from the shock of the offer, his face breaking out into a huge smile. "That's an awesome idea!" He shifted in his seat, grabbing Arthur's hands and clasping them tightly in his own. "We can clean out the old storage room across from our bedroom! The baby can sleep in there!"

'Just when had it become "our" bedroom?' Arthur wondered, his mouth refusing to help him form words to speak. That room wasn't really being used for anything but his old junk anyway. He was sure half of it could be thrown out anyway and the rest could be put up in the attic.

"What do you think, Ludwig?" Alfred leaned over his husband and stared at the German. "You in?"

Ludwig's expression remained as stoic as possible, though he did smile a little bit. "If Feliciano wants to do this, then I'll help."

Alfred's smile couldn't possibly be brighter. He leapt to his feet and embraced the Italian and German nations. "That's great! Thanks, guys!"

And so, the plans were made for Ludwig and Feliciano to come over the next weekend to help with the preparations of the baby's room. Arthur had silently thanked the two, smiling gently and wondering what kind of chaos he had just gotten himself into.

- - -

The night went on without a hitch and everyone looked to be enjoying themselves as much as they could. Barely any nations remained seated by the end of the night, the height of the party having gotten everyone out on the dance floor. If he hadn't been seven months pregnant, Arthur would have joined them all and would more than likely be drunk off his ass by now. Instead he was left to dully watch them dance until someone decided to come by and keep him company (which, thankfully, many nations decided to do). He enjoyed the company of most of them, but when people like Francis stopped by he wished he could indulge in the drinking everyone else was partaking in. Matthew had luckily saved him from the Frenchman's babbling and incessant flirting, dragging his former father away by the arm to have a talk with him. Arthur watched them go, smirking and feeling proud that the shy Canadian had such control over the man who had raised him for most of his life. He supposed their romantic relationship wasn't the worst thing that had happened in the history of the world.

"Heeeey, Iggy!"

Before he even had the chance to turn around, two heavy arms were wrapped around his shoulders, the stench of alcohol heavily hanging around him. "A-Alfred! What the bloody hell?!"

The American nation dropped clumsily into his chair, giving a lopsided smile to his husband. His cheeks were flushed, his nose a bright cherry red, and a thin layer of sweat shimmered on this brow, indicating that he must have been dancing up a storm. He rocked back and forth in his chair, unable to keep still for even five seconds.

"You're sloshed!"

"What?" Alfred blinked stupidly, leaning in close enough to cause Arthur to lean back, the smell of alcohol upsetting his sensitive nose. "Noooo. No, I'm not. Hey, you ready to go home yet?" The hiccup at the end of his sentence did nothing to aid his argument.

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Yes, Alfred, as long as you're able to stand."

Not one to back down from a challenge, Alfred stumbled to his feet, managing to stay up. He stared down at his feet and then spread his arms, smirking cockily. "Tada!"

Arthur hid his face in his hands momentarily, sighing heavily. "Yes, that's all good and well, but are you going to be able to help me up?"

He knew he shouldn't have doubted Alfred's strength, because before he could even attempt to get up on his own he was on his feet. Perhaps Alfred wasn't as drunk as he appeared, though he did act extremely friendly to everyone they passed on their way out the door, giving hugs and enthusiastic handshakes. The British nation began wondering if this was the way Alfred felt whenever the two went out drinking and he wound up getting hammered. He could quite easily admit that he wasn't enjoying this role-reversal, but at least Alfred was sober enough to carry himself out to the limousine. He only prayed that this night would be getting better once they got home and he got himself some much needed rest.

- - -

If there was one thing Alfred F. Jones could do really well it would be sobering up. The alcohol ran through his system faster than that of a normal human being, leaving him completely sober by the time he and Arthur returned to the Brit's home in London. He didn't even have rosy cheeks or a red nose to prove he was ever drunk in the first place.

Arthur sank down onto the bed with a sigh, one arm cradling his huge stomach and the other feeling in back of him so he wouldn't lose his balance. That had to have been the longest night of his life and the most chaotic wedding of the century. By the time they had left there wasn't a single sober nation on the planet (excluding the ones who weren't of legal drinking age such as Sealand, Latvia, and Lietchenstein) and most likely everyone who attended would have some embarrassing stories to tell to the others at the next United Nations meeting. He could practically see the look of embarrassment on Francis's face when Gilbert would tell the whole room about how the Frenchman was turned down by every single member of the catering staff, including all of the males. Needless to say, this brought a smile to the Briton's face.

"Need help?" Alfred bent down in front of his husband, taking one of his feet in his hands. He carefully untied and removed both of the English nation's shoes, holding one foot in his hand before experimentally kneading his thumb into the underside of it. A sigh escaped Arthur's lips and that was all Alfred needed before he began massaging both of the Briton's feet.

Arthur's head lulled onto his shoulder and his eyes shut. His lips curled into a cat-like smile and before long he began to moan softly, his toes wiggling in Alfred's grip. The American grinned, an idea popping into his head as he placed the Briton's feet back on the floor. The whine that escaped Arthur's lips came at almost the exact instant his foot hit the floor.

"Why did you stop?"

When Arthur next opened his eyes, it was to see Alfred's nantucket sticking out from below his bulging stomach. His curiosity only lasted for a mere second before he discovered the reason as to why Alfred was kneeling on the floor in front of him. Two hands came up to grasp the waistband of his pants, slowly sliding them off of Arthur's hips and off his body without any protests. Warm fingers brushed against the inside of his thigh, making him jump slightly at the temperature change, though he calmed the second those fingers started sliding closer to the bulge in his boxers. Alfred slowly stroked Arthur through the cloth, teasing him as much as humanly possible and managing to get him good and frustrated. By the time Arthur was gasping for breath and Alfred could feel the hardness through the material of the boxers, the American knew it was time to step things up a notch. The boxers came off, leaving Arthur exposed and at Alfred's mercy, and the younger nation knew exactly what to do with him.

He leaned in as close as he could get, having to twist at an odd angle due to the size of their unborn child, but he managed to get close enough to accomplish the task at hand. His tongue reached out and met the head of Arthur's cock, giving it a good lick. Arthur shuddered, his head falling back again and his breath coming in short, hot pants. Alfred's tongue worked expertly, swirling around the head and dipping into the slit, tasting a bit of precum that had started to leak out. The tips of his fingers came up to fondle Arthur's sac, tickling and massaging, cupping and lightly squeezing, earning squeaks and moans from the pregnant nation. A smirk had made its way across Alfred's face by the time he had decided that he had teased his husband enough. He opened his mouth, taking one hand away from Arthur's scrotum to aid him in slowly taking the member into his mouth.

"A-Ahh!" Arthur did the best he could to try and prevent his hips from bucking, but with the serge of hormones circulating through his body he soon became like a wild horse. Good thing Alfred was one of the best cowboy there was, meaning he was able to tame Arthur within a matter of minutes. His hand was placed on Arthur's chest, right over the Brit's beating heart, making Arthur stop his thrusting to look down at it. The hand slid down Arthur's warm body, following the curve of his baby bump to come to a rest near the top. No sooner had it stopped moving than it received a swift kick from their child, followed by a laugh from Arthur.

"S-She's excited." It seemed like every time Arthur was turned on the baby would become more active, as if sensing his excitement through the womb. They certainly were connected in more than just the obvious sense.

The baby continued to kick at Alfred's hand as he took more of Arthur into his mouth, his eyes closing in deep concentration. He relaxed the muscles of his throat, allowing Arthur's cock to slip in even deeper until it was practically in to the hilt. He heard Arthur's panting start up again and swallowed the mixture of saliva and precum that had been building up in his throat. Arthur was nearly screaming by this point, his hips starting to thrust forward again despite Alfred's best attempts to calm him.

Biting down on his lip, he squeezed his eyes shut so hard he could feel tears leaking out of the corners, running down his cheeks as he threw his head back, the pressure becoming unbearable. The warm, wet liquid hit the back of Alfred's throat with the speed of a missile, and he sucked it all down greedily, milking Arthur for all he was worth. Once he was sucked dry, Arthur's cock slipped from Alfred's mouth and he was free to concentrate on breathing regularly once again.

Green eyes opened to see Alfred climbing on the bed and moving in back of him, which he was grateful for, because he needed something to lean on lest he fall over. Next thing he knew he felt two big, strong hands kneading into his shoulders and the smile on his face returned. He was purring like a kitten in no time, rolling his head from side to side as Alfred's thumbs dug gently into his neck to loosen up the knots that resided there.

"Geez, Iggy. Why didn't you tell me you had some much tension?" The American's hands went lower and lower, seeking out kinks and areas of soreness. "Your back must really be bothering ya."

"I did tell you!" Arthur snarled. "Six times! But you were too smashed to reali--aaah…"

At least Alfred had learned a new way to shut Arthur up. He made a mental note to give the Brit more backrubs and massages, especially before the baby came. His hands rested down by Arthur's hips, working out the last of the knots. "I wasn't smashed. You know me, I don't get drunk."

"You were sloshed, Alfred."

Despite the relaxed tone of his voice, Alfred could easily detect an icy underside to that statement. He bent forward, lips hovering beside Arthur's right ear. "Alright," he kissed the skin of Arthur's white neck, making a slow trail downward. "Maybe I'm a bit tipsy right now, but even if I weren't I'd still say that you're looking very sexy right now."

Arthur gave a laugh, the tips of his ears burning. Alfred was already busy taking off the rest of the Brit's clothes and tossing them haphazardly across the room. His hands were fumbling with his necktie, since Arthur's dress shirt was keeping him from kissing the rest of the skin he was dying to get to. Once the tie was gone, it was only a matter of seconds before the buttons of the shirt were popped off, each clattering to the floor to watch his shirt fall down like a parachute above them. Alfred's hot lips descended upon he exposed skin like a wolf on fresh meat, kissing every inch of skin that was available to him and earning little mewls from Arthur.

"You know…your pick up lines…suck."

Arthur heard a chuckle close to his left ear as Alfred came up to nibble on the lobe, sucking some and flicking it with his tongue. "They work well enough."

Alfred was right, and sometimes Arthur hated him for it. He still couldn't fathom how he fell in love with someone as goofy and corny as Alfred F. Jones, but here he was on his honeymoon night (if you could even call it that) being eased down gently onto his back so that Alfred could press kisses into his burning skin. His arms came up to encircle Alfred's neck, locking in place as his neck was covered with the American's lips. The lower Alfred got, the further up his neck Arthur's hands slid, until they came to rest in his hair, lightly fisting it and twirling strands around his fingers.

Alfred raised his body up onto his hands and knees, backing up enough to get a good look at the body laying underneath him. Arthur's eyes weren't shut as he thought they would be, instead they were wide open, shining and glimmering back at him through the darkness, darkened with lust. Alfred didn't need to reach between Arthur's legs to know that his erection was back.

He busied himself kissing Arthur's heavy stomach, massaging the stretching skin and whispering sweet nothings to their baby. Arthur smiled down at him, his index finger curling around nantucket and giving it a light tug to earn Alfred's attention. "I need you," he breathed once Alfred's baby blues were focused only on him. "Right now."

Alfred straightened up and crawled to the head to the bed to lean down and give his husband a light kiss. Hands quickly caught him around the neck once again, pulling him down into a more fiery, passionate kiss, one which he wasn't about to escape from any time soon. Arthur forced Alfred's mouth open with his tongue, pillaging it in search of its mate. Their tongues danced, Alfred being pulled down closer so that their mouths were practically melded into one. Both were breathing heavily through flared nostrils before Alfred finally pulled back, his glasses slipping off one ear. He quickly took off Texas, folded it and set it on the night table out of their way.

"How do you want to do this?"

Therein lay the problem. Arthur's size prevented them from having sex the way they normally did, which meant they would have to come up with an alternate plan. Unfortunately, they hadn't had the time to practice a new position due to the wedding rapidly approaching. This meant that both were left very frustrated and in no mood to try and think of a way around this "little" problem.

"I-I don't care," Arthur whined, reaching out and grabbing one of Alfred's hands to squeeze to keep himself busy. "Just do it. Please, Alfred."

Alfred looked down into acidic green eyes and frowned. He would have to come to the rescue on this one. "Alright. On your side, I need to get you ready first."

That statement was easier said than done. It took both their strength to get Arthur laying on his side, which only dampened the British nation's mood even more, though he held his tongue the second he heard Alfred fumbling around in the dresser drawer. He hadn't the strength to look back and see what was going on, but then again he really didn't need to see to know what was happening. He felt a digit worm its way inside of him and his eyes snapped shut, feeling pain for the first time in weeks.

Alfred paused and waited for Arthur's breathing to even out before he slipped the second finger inside and had to take another break. "You're really tight…"

Arthur hissed through his teeth, gripping onto the sheets of the bed. "I-I know!" he was practically out of breath and crippled by pain already and they hadn't even gotten down to business yet. "J-Just get it…o-over with!"

The corners of Alfred's lips tugged down into a frown, his voice filled with concern. "Iggy, maybe we shouldn't be doing this. I mean, you're in this much pain and I'm not even in yet."

Arthur furiously shook his head. "No! I-I need this! I'll be fine!" his voice began to soften as the pain started to subside. "I-It's only because it's been so long."

Alfred gave a nod, though he didn't know why because he knew Arthur couldn't see him. He focused on the task at hand, scissoring his fingers apart until Arthur's hisses became pants and moans for more. The smile returned to his face at the whimper he received when he pulled his fingers out without warning. "Do you think you could do this on your hands and knees?"

Of course, Arthur wasn't thinking straight at the moment. He didn't care about the position, just as long as he had Alfred inside of him now he would be fine. "Y-Yes. Just help me up."

Alfred did his best to make Arthur as comfortable as possible. He stacked a few pillows under his tummy for extra security, even though he would be holding Arthur up. He rid himself of his clothes and got into position before checking if Arthur was alright for the third time, only to get scolded by the other nation.

"Damnit, Alfred! Just do it already!"

And so he did. With his hands resting on Arthur's hips, he thrust inside of him, holding his position as Arthur let out a long whine. God, Arthur was so hot and tight! It felt like this was the first time they were doing this and Alfred felt his excitement build up. He could feel Arthur quivering and knew he had to support him the best he could. One hand went to the headboard, gripping on to steady himself, the other wrapped around Arthur's heavy stomach. No sooner than his palm made contact with the skin he felt the baby press back, yearning for its father's touch. He smiled softly, getting comfortable and just listening to the sound of Arthur's breathing even out. "Ready?"

He could have sworn he heard another whimper, but dismissed it as soon as he saw Arthur give him a firm nod. His hips began rocking forward, diving deeper into his lover, feeling his cock become engulfed by Arthur's heat. "Oh God, Iggy…"

Arthur could feel the baby stirring inside of him and apparently so could Alfred, for he felt the other's hand begin to rub circles into his stomach as the two rocked in tandem. He was surprised by the fact that he could keep himself up for so long, though he figured his sex drive had something to do with it. He needed this, more than anything in the world. He felt like he had been deprived of this for far too long, as if sex was a new form of oxygen that he needed in order to live.

When Alfred felt that Arthur was stable enough on his own, his hand followed the curve of his belly until he found his erect member. He wasn't surprised to find that it was already dripping precum onto the sheets below them. The moment his hand grasped Arthur's hard cock, the Brit let out a loud gasp, causing Alfred to grin devilishly. He had Arthur exactly where he wanted him, and there was just so much to touch, taste, and play with. He was in paradise. An erotic playground made just for him. He wrapped his hand around Arthur, pumping him in time with his thrusts, witnessing as his husband threw his head back to cry out loudly.

His body was burning. His throat was closing. His heart was pounding. Despite all of this, he couldn't hear how loudly he was crying out, that is until Alfred decided to join him in his chorus of moans. The room quickly filled with the sound of their screams of pleasure, and Arthur became thankful that he didn't have any neighbors around to hear the racket. Along with the sound of their screams came the creaks of the bed, put to work by their constant rocking.

Alfred had told himself he would go easy before he started, but that promise had quickly flown out the window. He wanted to make Arthur wriggle, scream, moan. He wanted to do everything he possibly could to pleasure the beautiful body below him. That was why when he struck at that sweet spot inside of Arthur and he heard his throaty cry he couldn't stop himself from pounding into him.

His face was drenched in sweat, the beads dripping off of his chin and tumbling onto the pillows underneath him. He pressed back against each thrust, yearning for more. By this point, Arthur didn't care if it broke him, all he knew was that he needed release. His arms had started shaking, his screaming becoming constant as the pressure in his cock became unbearable. One last pump from Alfred and his seed was free.

All it took was the sound of his moans and the splash of cum hitting his hand to push Alfred over the edge. He gave one final thrust, burying himself as deep as he could within Arthur, his body shaking with its release. He remained stiff as his vision went white, holding his position until he felt Arthur start to fall.

"A-Arthur!" He snapped back into hero mode in a split second, pulling out and wrapping both of his strong arms around his husband right before his body could hit the mattress. His heart hammered in his chest at the close call, setting Arthur down on his back and fixing the pillows. He brushed Arthur's bangs from his face, wiping the sweat away and kissing his brow. "I pushed you too hard."

Emerald eyes slowly began to open and Arthur shook his head. His chest was heaving to the point where he was nearly hyperventilating, but still the British nation remained as stubborn as always. "N-No…I-I needed…it…"

Hearing Arthur talked calmed Alfred down a little bit, putting him back into the right state of mind. He waited for Arthur's breathing to return to normal before he padded to the bathroom to get some damp cloths to clean up with. He wiped Arthur down first, mopping up the sweat on his body along with the rest of the mess they had made. His eyes barely left Arthur's face for a minute, looking up at him as he cleaned, his eyes shining with worry.

Arthur smiled at him, laughing lightly. "I'm alright, you git." Arthur stated, beginning to rub circles into his stomach. "I just wasn't used to that much exercise is all."

Well, that was true. Arthur hadn't been doing much of anything lately besides sitting down and resting. His body just probably wasn't used to the strain and the added weight. If Alfred had a body like Arthur's, he was sure he would get exhausted way more easily than normal if he were in his position. Of course he wouldn't be saying any of that to Arthur since he didn't want to get his head bitten off tonight. Instead he busied himself cleaning up before lying down beside Arthur and collecting him in his arms. Arthur snuggled up to him instantly, resting his head in the crook of Alfred's neck and sighing contentedly. Alfred's hand reached down to join Arthur's on his stomach, lacing their fingers together over their unborn child and simply enjoying each other's company.

Alfred, of course, was the first to break this most beautiful of silences. "So, did you enjoy your honeymoon?"

Arthur didn't bother opening his eyes, though he did give a nod. "Yes. It was a beautiful night, Alfred."

The American nation made a "hmm" noise and Arthur lifted his head, giving him a curious look. He knew what that noise meant. It meant Alfred was scheming something.

"Because it wasn't a really traditional one," Alfred began, asking the question Arthur had on his mind without even having to hear it. "We didn't get to go away to any place romantic or anything."

"In case you haven't realized, I can't go out in public like this, Alfred."

Swooping down, Alfred captured Arthur's lips in a chaste kiss, smiling into his eyes. "Exactly, and that's why I propose we have a real honeymoon after the baby is born and we're all settled in."

A sleepy, warm smile spread across Arthur's face. "I'm holding you to that, I hope you realize."

Alfred opening his mouth to reply when a kick was delivered to both of their hands, causing them both to smile down at Arthur's stomach. "I think she likes my idea too."

- - -A/N- - -

This chapter is beyond late, and because of that I decided to make it up to you guys. The sex scene was the longest one I've ever written, and I did my best with it! Also, I've decided to write a bit of a oneshot sequel to this where Alfred and Arthur go off on their honeymoon! The baby will be left in the care of the nations, which will surely prove to be chaotic. I hope you guys like that idea!

If you have any questions/comments/concerns/ideas please feel free to leave them in a reply or review! Hope you guys enjoyed! I'll see you for the next chapter!

-Colie


	9. Chapter 9

**Draw a Circle**

_Chapter 9_

Alfred thanked the cashier and took the bag of fast food into his arms, cradling it as he struggled for balance. He pivoted his feet and began walking towards the door, pushing it open with his shoulder and exiting one of the many McDonalds of London. Not a second after he stepped outside he was met with a strong icy wind, nipping at the tip of his nose and freezing his ears.

"Brr!" He nuzzled his chin, mouth, and nose further into the scarf around his neck, thankful that Arthur had forced him to wear the ridiculous garment (honestly, he looked as if he was ready to board the Hogwarts Express). To add to the cold wind, it looked like it was about to rain, the clouds turning an ugly grey color that made Alfred slightly nervous. He didn't want the food to get wet, which would ultimately result in Arthur screaming his head off at the younger nation for taking his sweet arse time getting home. He decided a quick jog was in order to beat the rain clouds.

Luckily, he wound up getting to England's house before it started to pour too badly (he was a hero, after all) and now stood on the porch, juggling the bag in his arms with his keys, struggling to open the front door. He didn't expect anyone to help let him in, since he had told Arthur a hundred times that he shouldn't be running to go and open the door for anyone, so he wasn't surprised to find the Briton exactly where he had left him. Arthur lay on the couch in the sitting room on his back with a book propped up against his stomach, his eyes shifting from its pages to look up at Alfred as the younger nation approached. Alfred stopped in front of the couch, bending down and capturing Arthur's lips in a soft kiss, taking his book and setting it down on the coffee table and handing him his drink.

"Let me go prepare these," He said as he pulled back, taking the burgers out of the bag. Arthur nodded and watched Alfred head off to the kitchen to add the jalapeños and mayonnaise to his burgers, coming back a few minutes later and sitting at the Briton's feet. A platter of hamburgers was set atop his stomach, which Arthur wasn't too pleased about, but at the moment he was too hungry to snap at his husband (he sure as hell didn't hesitate the first time though, promptly telling Alfred that his stomach wasn't to be used as a table no matter how large it grew). He reached out and took the top burger, biting off nearly half of it and finishing it in haste.

Alfred could barely watch as the burgers were devoured at the light speed, feeling slightly sick just thinking about the condiments Arthur was ingesting. Mayonnaise and jalapenos had become his new craving, and he demanded that they be added to his burgers for the past week and a half. It seemed every week Arthur had a new craving. The week prior it had been for hamburgers with chocolate pudding covering the bun, and the week before that called for peanut butter and jelly with Alfred's most beloved food. The American often wondered if all of this was some sort of punishment to himself for constantly eating those delicious burgers that Arthur had previously despised so much. At first, Alfred had argued that Arthur was destroying his precious burgers by adding sickening toppings to them, but seeing as that resulted in one of the most pointless fights of the century he gave up and let Arthur do whatever he wanted with his food. One shouldn't start arguments with his eight month old pregnant husband, the results were never pretty.

A thud from upstairs caused Alfred's eyes to travel to the staircase, breaking him from his thoughts. "I wonder if they need any help…"

Arthur shook his head, swallowing a mouthful of hamburger and sipping at his soda. "I went up there before. They seem to have everything under control."

Alfred quickly snapped his head around to look astonishingly at his husband. "You did what?! I told you not to go up and down the stairs by yourself, Iggy! You could get hurt!"

The older nation's cheeks ballooned, tinting a slight pink as he glared at Alfred. "You don't expect me to just lounge around down here when I have guests, do you? I had to ask them if they wanted any refreshments. And besides, I only went up the stairs by myself."

"You aren't supposed to be up there! The smell could be dangerous to the baby!" Alfred pressed, concern shining in his big blue eyes. Honestly, sometimes he could be far too much of a overprotective husband. Arthur wondered just how protective he would be after their child was born.

Arthur's eyes downcast, suddenly becoming fascinated with the rug on the floor. He looked like a child that had just been scolded by their school teacher. "I-I know…" He wasn't about to tell Alfred that the smell of the paint had been so overwhelming that Ludwig had to accompany him to the bathroom so that he could throw up. The German nation had then carried him back downstairs and lay him to rest on the couch, firmly telling him that he wasn't to move from the spot until Alfred came home. Knowing that he shouldn't test the German's limits, Arthur had stayed in place and decided to break out a new book (the fifth book on pregnancy he had picked up over the months) while he waited for his food to arrive. "The room looks quite lovely though. You should go and take a look."

Alfred looked from Arthur to the stairs and then back again, hesitant to leave the Briton alone. Only when Arthur's look turned into that stern, stubborn one did Alfred get to his feet with a smile and a laugh. "Alright. I'll check it out. But don't you dare move from this spot." That being said, the American swooped down and gave Arthur a sweet kiss, tasting the salt on his lips from the burgers. "I'll be right back."

He was met with rolling green eyes as a red blush spread across Arthur's face. "You're far too overprotective."

"It's a hero's job to protect the ones he loves!" he called back, taking the stairs two at a time. He had to avoid the boxes that lined the walls of the hallway, nearly catching his pant leg on a stray painting from the Victorian ages that had been jutting out just a bit too far. Ludwig appeared from the spare room, carrying several boxes of things that were to be carried up to the attic, stopping as Alfred addressed him. "Yo! Ludwig!"

"Hello, Alfred," the German greeted in what was his "friendly" tone (anyone who didn't know him personally would have felt intimidated). He adjusted the boxes in his arms, watching as Alfred peeked his head into the room under construction. Feliciano stood on a step ladder, paintbrush in hand, curl bouncing as he sang a happy Italian tune and worked on the finishing touches of the unicorn he had just painted. The Italian had been working on the baby's room for past two weekends, painting it over to look like a storybook fairytale, something that suited both Arthur and Alfred's pasts. Most of the room had been painted to look like a forest, with great big trees reaching the ceiling, their leaves and branches extending outward. Puffy, colorful, little birds perched in the branches while rabbits and deer hopped around on the woodland floor playing in the flowers and meadows. This portion of the room gave Alfred a nostalgic feeling whenever he stood back to look at it, reminding him greatly of the forest animals he would play with as a child. The other side of the room suited Arthur a bit more than it did Alfred. One whole wall was devoted to the sea, with gulls flying high in the sky, white puffy clouds illuminating the sky, and a giant pirate ship sailing the horizon. The ship was modeled after one of Arthur's favorites, so Feliciano had of course gone overboard on the details. The finishing touch being that the ship adorned Arthur's colors which flew high in the winds, telling other ships just who they were dealing with. In all honesty, the room reminded Alfred of Neverland, mixing forests and oceans. The only thing that seemed a bit out of place was the unicorn that had been placed on his own wall of the room in the forest section. This section was again dedicated to Arthur, and was complete with fairies, elves, gnomes, and just about any other mythical creature that Feliciano had the pleasure of ever painting. When it was completed, this room would be, without a doubt, the Italian nation's greatest masterpiece.

Stepping passed Ludwig, Alfred entered the room, the smell of the paint hitting him the instant he passed the threshold. His hands on his hips, he examined the room from wall to wall, top to bottom, before flashing Feliciano an award winning smile. "It looks amazing!"

Feliciano turned around, looking confused for a second before realizing that he wasn't alone in the room. He smiled back, his eyes squeezing shut happily. "Vee, you really think so, Alfred? I didn't know exactly what gnomes looked like, but I found one in the storybook you left me! I hope I didn't mix him up with the dwarfs though from that one story about the pretty lady and the scary step-mother. Are you sure I can't draw a bowl of pasta in here somewhere? It would make the room look a whole lot yummier."

Ever since day one, Alfred and Ludwig had to stop Feliciano from painting any kind of Italian cuisine on the walls of the room. Once, they had failed to get to him in time and had to paint over a bowl of spaghetti that took up a small portion of the sky in the pirate section. Ludwig had scolded the Italian until he cried, later apologizing for being so harsh with him. Alfred had merely burst out laughing at the sight of them.

"Feliciano," Ludwig came into the room, his arms now empty of boxes. "You can have pasta when we return home. No more drawing pictures of Italian food on the walls of the baby's room."

Alfred checked his watch, noticing that it was now mid-afternoon. Had they really been working on the room all morning and into part of the afternoon without food? No wonder Arthur tried to come up here! "If you guys want, Feliciano can use the kitchen to make some pasta for dinner now."

The small Italian practically leapt off of the stepstool he was on, rushing up to Alfred. "Vee! Can I really?" His chocolate eyes were shining, swimming with the desire for his signature food.

"Yeah," Alfred laughed, patting Feliciano gently on the head (being careful to avoid touching that one curl). "Sure."

Ludwig gave Alfred a firm look, scaring the younger nation slightly. "You are sure Arthur won't mind the intrusion?"

"Are you kidding? He'd be happy to have anyone cook for him. Haven't you seen the way he's been eating lately?"

Feliciano laughed at that. "Then I'll make a lot of pasta! There will be enough for all of us! I'll make rotini, fetticini, rigatoni--" Hurriedly, he set his brush down sloppily on a piece of cardboard he was using to mix colors. Then, without warning, he took off down the stairs, another happy song filling the air.

Soon after the smell of pasta joined the singing in the air, gathering all four nations to the table for their Italian dinner.

- - -

The days seemed to drag on toward the end of his pregnancy, but without fail every day Alfred would be able to find Arthur sitting in the brand new rocking chair in the baby's room. On this particular day he was going through a box of clothing, folding small outfits and setting them aside to be put away. His stomach was so swollen at this point that he was using it as a makeshift table for many things, today it happened to work as a sort of ironing board (minus the iron of course). Occasionally, he would stop to rub his stretching belly, feeling the baby kicking at his hand the moment his hand made contact with his skin. He would smile and speak softly to his baby girl (he was still thoroughly convinced about the sex of their child, though getting Alfred to believe the same would be a difficult task until the child was born), telling her about how excited he was to be meeting her soon.

Every kick he felt brought him closer to reality. He would be giving birth soon. He and Alfred would be welcoming their baby into the world in a matter of weeks. There was no use hiding it, he could feel his heart speeding up at the thought of the day he would go into labor, and he knew he was terrified. But that didn't mean he would show it. No, there was absolutely no way he would go crying to Alfred, even if his hormones were still driving him crazy and pushing him to the very edge of his sanity. Combine that with the back pain, the foot swelling, the reappearance of his morning sickness, and his weird cravings and you had a recipe for certain disaster.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably in the rocking chair, reaching forward and taking another outfit out of the old box. This would keep his mind off of things and help him to remain calm. He breathed a sigh and went back to his folding, completely oblivious to the fact that Alfred was watching him from the doorway.

"I didn't know we had baby clothes."

Arthur let out a loud gasp and would have jumped up from his spot if his stomach weren't so big and heavy. He clutched his heart and gave Alfred a heated glare. "How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that?! You could cause me to go into labor, you git!"

Alfred laughed to himself, strolling leisurely into the room and taking a seat next to the box, nosing through it. "So? That'd be a good thing! Then I could prove you wrong even sooner," he cast Arthur a smile before stopping, his eyes catching sight of the garment in the Brit's hand. "I-Is that--"

"These are your old clothes. Yes." Arthur avoided his eyes and went back to folding, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "I-I figured since we didn't have the chance to go and buy new clothes we could use these for the time being."

For once in his life, Alfred fell silent. He had picked another outfit from the box, holding it in his hands and running his fingers over the lace and bows that adorned the garment, a small smile forming on his face. "I can't believe you kept these…"

It came out as practically a whisper and Arthur almost asked him to repeat it, but the look on the American's face was all he needed to see in order to figure it out. In an instant, a smile almost identical to Alfred's was on Arthur's face, his cheeks darkening. "O-Of course I kept them!" he busied himself by shaking out the outfit in his lap and refolding it. "I told you dozens of times that I missed the days when you were younger. I had to keep something around to remind me of when you were actually tolerable."

Alfred was only half listening (how typical of him), instead he had his eyes locked on the box of his baby clothes, rifling through the box and pulling out all the treasures it had to offer. The little dresses weren't the only things he discovered, he had also found pacifiers, bibs, and even some teething toys. His eyes shone as his fingers traced each object, not able to remember when he was small enough to use any of these things. Had he really been tiny enough to fit into those dresses? Was his neck thin enough for that bib to wrap around it without choking him? When was the last time he put one of these toys in his mouth to soothe an aching tooth? He may have not been able to remember such times, but Alfred was sure Arthur remember each and every single memory he had forgotten.

He raised his head to look at his husband, a smile bigger than any of the one's Arthur had ever seen him make plastered on his face. "We'll use these."

And Arthur smiled back.

- - -

He couldn't sleep that night. He just couldn't get comfortable no matter which side he slept on, yet still Alfred slept on, not noticing his discomfort. Arthur glared at him, cursing under his breath and shifting his weight for what seemed like the five hundredth time that night. The mattress was feeling extra uncomfortable that night and wasn't doing much for his poor aching back even though Alfred had given him a massage before drifting off to sleep. But the kinks and knots had quickly returned, rendering Arthur more uncomfortable than ever, not to mention that the baby was tossing and turning within him and making everything all the more difficult. He simply wasn't going to get any rest that night in that bed.

His eyes wandered over to the door. A thought crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Alfred had told him time and time again that he shouldn't be pushing himself. He had been watching over him like a hawk for the past week and a half, Arthur wasn't even allowed to shower by himself any more. The most privacy he got was when he had to go to the bathroom, and even then he had to make sure to leave the door unlocked just in case. Arthur was beginning to feel like a prisoner in his own home, having not seen the light of day for several months. Oh how he wished that he could spend an afternoon outside in the nice spring weather, but there was no way in hell he could go outside in his current state. Not that it mattered much, with all the weight he had gained in his last month of pregnancy he was pretty sure getting through the front door would be a tough squeeze.

The couch downstairs. Yes, that would be the perfect place to get some rest. That couch had never failed to send him into a blissful slumber, not once. Green eyes shifted back toward Alfred as he reached out and nudged the nation's shoulder. "Alfred. Alfred, wake up."

The American moaned in his sleep (something about hamburgers, Arthur thought), and rolled over to avoid the Briton entirely. Arthur frowned and tried again, this time shaking him harder and speaking more loudly. "Alfred, I'm going to go sleep on the couch."

"Mnnn…'kay."

Arthur let out a sigh, wondering if Alfred was replying to something in his dream or if he had actually heard what he had said. It didn't matter, he wasn't waking up and that meant that the British nation would have to go downstairs himself.

With much difficulty, he pulled himself up, slowly swinging his legs over the side of the bed and feeling for the floor. Next he gripped onto the bedpost, using it to stabilize himself as he heaved himself to his feet, one hand going to his stomach once he had regained his balance. There, the hard part was over, now all he had to do was get downstairs. His lips curled into a frown as he navigated blindly through the pitch black bedroom, finding his way to the stairs and staring down them nervously.

"You can do this, Arthur," he told himself, finding the banister and squeezing onto it for dear life. He couldn't see around his enormous stomach, but he bravely reached down and felt for the first step, setting one foot down on it. Now came the harder part, moving the second foot without losing his balance, this would prove to be a bit more difficult. His palms started to sweat and his grip on the banister faltered the moment he moved his foot, but he caught himself before he had the chance to fall, balancing himself and breathing heavily. "This is going to give me a bloody heart attack."

He was cursing Alfred by then for being the laziest person he knew. Honestly, who was lazy enough to not wake up from their slumber to help their pregnant husband get down a flight of stairs? He would have to give him a stern talking to when morning came, but right now his mission was to conquer these steps.

Slowly, he moved to the second stair, freezing midway when a terrible pain ripped through his abdomen. He gasped, tightening his grip on the banister and staring down at his stomach, wondering just what that was all about. Dear God, had that been a contraction? It couldn't have been, could it? He wasn't due for another two weeks! No, no, it was probably just the baby kicking something vital inside of him. Yes, that explained it. Nothing to worry about.

Nodding to convince himself, he got down the next step, and then the next few. It wasn't until he was more than halfway down that he felt another pain twist in his midsection. It went as quickly as it came, but it had left him breathless and startled, worried beyond belief about what was happening to him. He needed to sit down and calm himself. There was no use going back upstairs to get Alfred seeing as he was nearly at the bottom as it was. With this in mind, he continued downstairs.

The pain worsened the further down he got and Arthur was drenched in sweat and panting by the time he reached the couch. He hobbled over to it, placing a supporting hand on the arm and leaning, sucking in air through his teeth. The hand on his stomach rubbed in soothing circles, telling the baby that everything would be alright, but the child didn't seem to be listening, in fact, everything seemed to be getting much worse.

Fear was starting to devour him whole. He was downstairs, unable to catch his breath, and one hundred percent sure that he was going into labor. Leaning his back against the wall, he grit his teeth and clamped his eyes shut, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill from them. His hand had left the couch to cradle his stomach protectively as he concentrated on breathing regularly. He had to call for Alfred, but his voice just wouldn't travel through his lips. He was crippled by fear, his poor body starting to quiver as the pain was replaced with the feeling of complete dread. Thankfully, moments later he felt a healthy amount of air reach his lungs, he opened his mouth and this time was able to scream at the top of his lungs, knowing that Alfred was sure to come running.

Not a second later, Arthur heard the telltale sign that Alfred had fallen out of bed, signaling he had heard the cry and was now more than awake. Snapping his head up, he watched as his husband bound down the stairs hurriedly, stopping only briefly in order to spot Arthur before rushing to his side.

"Iggy! Oh God, what happened?! Is it time?!" He brushed back the Briton's bangs, staring into his terrified eyes and instantly knowing exactly what was happening. Arthur was shaking and panting up against the wall, pale as a ghost and practically crying. Alfred hadn't seen his former father look this pathetic since the revolution. He knew it took a great deal of pain to make Arthur cry, and before he could stop it, he found himself whispering the words they both didn't want to come to terms with. "You're in labor."

- - -

A/N:

Oh yes, I'm sure you're all HATING me by now. But come on, who of you could possibly say you didn't see this coming? It needed to end here. The next chapter is going to be a long one which I've had planned out for AGES.

This chapter was the most difficult to write out of all of them, seeing as it's mostly filler until the very end. I honestly didn't plan for Arthur to go into labor in this chapter, but I had really run out of ideas, so it had to happen. Plus, I'm sure you all want to see the baby, and I for one cannot wait to write about it!!

Thanks again to everyone who's been rooting for me, commenting, and favoriting. I really love hearing your input and ideas! Next chapter you'll find out if you were right about the gender of the baby, and don't worry, I have looks and personality all decided! The only thing I haven't a clue about is the sequel, or if there's even going to be one, so tell me what you'd like to see, please! You can count on there being a story about US and UK going on their honeymoon and leaving the baby with a couple of sitters!

I'll see you next chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

**Draw A Circle**

Chapter 10

He had been sleeping peacefully before the beautiful sound of the Canadian Nation Anthem filled the air, causing a certain drowsy Frenchman to roll over and stare at the nightstand beside his bed. Francis vaguely wondered who would be calling so late at night before realizing that whoever was trying to contact Matthew most likely wasn't aware that the Canadian was in Paris at the moment. Said Canadian hadn't budged an inch since his phone began to ring, a sure sign that he was still in a peaceful slumber and had no intention of answering the cause of the annoyance. Francis decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Bonjour?"

"Matty! Matty, oh thank God you answered!" It was Alfred. That figured, seeing as the American was practically the only Nation that didn't know of the special relationship that had blossomed between his brother and the Nation of France. "I need you to get over here as quickly as possible!"

"Ah, Amerique!" Francis responded, grinning from ear to ear. "It is lovely to hear from you, but do you have any idea what time it is right now? You almost disturbed your precious brother's slumber." A hand grazed over Matthew's soft cheek, causing the young North American brother to smile in his sleep.

Francis could practically see the confusion on Alfred's face, the pause and the stuttering only helping to prove that he had baffled the American beyond belief. He figured he should lend a hand, "Alfred, this is not Matthieu. It is Francis."

"Francis? Why are you answering Matty's phone?"

"Because your brother is preoccupied at the moment. Is there any way I could be of assistance to you? You sound a bit hysterical." Francis twirled a lock of Matthew's hair around his finger as he spoke, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Alfred as quick to answer, a new sound filling Francis's ears and making him become generally concerned that something may be wrong. "Yeah, listen, wake Matty up and get over here as soon as you can. Call Kiku and Yao too. I-Infact just call everyone you possibly can, I need as much help as possible."

Had he heard correctly? It sounded like Alfred, the self proclaimed "hero", had just said he needed help. That couldn't possibly be correct. His ears must be deceiving him--unless.

"It is Angleterre, is it not?" Francis asked, his grip on the phone tightening. He hand abandoned Matthew's hair and pushed himself to his feet, already knowing the answer to his question well before it came.

"H-He's in labor."

- - -

Alfred worked as quickly as possible, getting Arthur up to the safety of their bedroom in a matter of minutes and situating him as comfortably as he could. The Briton's water broke all over the carpet in the sitting room just as Alfred had reached out to scoop him up into his arms. Arthur's shaking hadn't ceased since then, and he had Alfred's shirt in a death grip, determined not to let the American out of his sight. Alfred's only choice was to use his cell phone to call his brother and ask for help, but instead he had gotten France. Of all the times his brother could be sleeping, why did it have to be now? He figured Francis was just as good as anybody else at that moment in time, and once he had finished the call he quickly hung up and shoved his phone back into his pocket (having haphazardly thrown his pants and a t-shirt back on), turning his full attention back on Arthur.

"Do you need anything? I-Is there anything I can do?" The shaking seemed to be contagious, or maybe it was due to the fact that they were both drenched in bodily fluids consisting of God knows what. Alfred perched on the edge of the bed, propping Arthur up with as many pillows as he needed to be comfortable.

The British nation was looking deathly pale, his eyes half lidded and teeth gritted from the pain. "I-I need this baby to get out of me as soon as possible!" Obviously Arthur's condition didn't disable him from yelling, his strength returning so that he could scream and grunt, grip tightening on Alfred's poor shirt. It was hurting like hell and Arthur was positively sure this wasn't nearly as bad as the pain was going to get. Why hadn't they thought to plan ahead? Oh yes, that was right, that baby wasn't due for another two weeks. Still, at least Alfred had a plan to fall back on even if that plan wasn't that complex.

"Look, I know it hurts," Alfred swept Arthur's sweaty bangs away from his face, blowing cool air against his burning skin momentarily. Arthur wasn't willing to let him out of his sight, which meant that Alfred wasn't allowed to fetch a cool cloth for him, resulting in a slight fever. "Just hang on for a little bit longer. It shouldn't take everyone too long to get here, I think Matty was at Francis's place, so they're pretty close by." Even as he said it, that didn't sound too comforting. They both wondered exactly how Matthew and Francis could help them, but neither of them wanted to voice the question.

Arthur nodded fruitlessly, his head lulling to the side and a huge sigh escaping him as his eyes connected with Alfred's blue ones. He couldn't express how truly terrified he was at that moment, nor could he tell Alfred how grateful he was to have him by his side. If he had to do this alone he honestly didn't know what would happen to him. He wouldn't have known what to do and he didn't even want to know what that would mean for his baby.

"Just hang in there for me, okay Iggy?"

Green eyes looked up into the smiling (yet worried) face of his husband, and he nodded, smiling back as best he could. In just a few hours he would be holding his baby in his arms and all of this pain would be over. It was well worth it, he knew that, but he doubted he would feel that way once the contractions starting becoming regular. He closed his eyes against the slight pain he felt right now, deciding that all he could do at the moment was relax and wait until help arrived. Alfred would watch over him while he slept, and that gave him all the comfort he needed to go on.

- - -

He didn't know how many hours had passed since he had spoken to Francis, but to Alfred it had felt like nearly half a day. Arthur had slept peacefully the entire time, but he didn't dare leave his side for one moment in case another contraction hit. He wanted to be there every step of the way and he knew that Arthur must be terrified, not wanting to be alone. Alfred was relieved to say the least when he heard noise coming from downstairs, the sound of the front door being thrown open made him grin like an idiot, the footsteps clambering up the stairs making his heart thump in his chest.

Matthew darted into the room, looking close to hysterics, his glasses lopsided and his jacket half hanging off. "A-Alfred! I came as quickly as I co--"

Alfred quickly held up a hand, silencing his brother, whose eyes drifted to the sleeping form of the British nation on the bed. Matthew slowly approached, kneeling down beside Alfred and whispering to him. "What do you need me to do?"

"Not that much," Alfred responded, looking from his brother to smile over at Arthur who had moved slightly in his slumber, but remained asleep. "A wet cloth would be good. I think he's got a fever."

"That is typical," the sound of Francis's calm voice drifted in front the doorway. Despite Matthew looking completely disheveled, Francis looked like he took his sweet time getting ready, seeming as flawless as ever. "Most women develop high fevers when they go into labor, Amerique."

He had planned on asking Francis how in the heck he knew that, but decided against it as Matthew started pulling his jacket off, standing up to go and fetch a washcloth. He returned minutes later with a basin of cold water, a cup filled with ice, and a damp cloth, setting all of the items down beside the bed.

"We called Kiku on our way out the door," the Canadian replied, taking the time to wring out the extra water in the cloth before handing it over to his brother. "He said he'd contact Yao and the others."

Alfred took the cloth, folding it as neatly as he could before placing it on Arthur's forehead. The older nation didn't budge one bit, as if he hadn't felt the cloth at all. "Others? What others?" Why did he get the sinking feeling that Arthur's house would soon be overrun with Nations who claimed they wanted to help but really just wanted a peek at the baby?

Matthew gave a shrug, taking a seat on the floor beside the water basin. "I'm not sure. Before I could ask he had hung up."

"I am sure he would not contact the entire world, Alfred," Francis comforted, leisurely walking into the room, about to sit down on the edge of the bed when he was shot a glare from the American.

"Francis, I appreciate that you brought my brother over here this quickly and all, but I really don't think Arthur would be happy if he woke up with labor pains and you on the end of his bed." That, in turn, meant that Alfred would get screamed at for allowing the Frenchman in the house to begin with. But it wasn't exactly like Alfred had invited him, now was it? Francis simply tagged along with Matthew! Wait, why were they together anyway? Shouldn't his brother have been at home in Canada?

"Maybe you should wait downstairs," Matthew craned his neck, wide blue eyes looking up at his former father. "You can let everyone else in. They don't have a key like I do."

Francis feigned a hurt look, dramatically sauntering over to the door. "Oh, I've been demoted to the doormen! Why don't my former children love me? What have I done to deserve this?"

Both North American brothers shot him a glare and he was gone in a flash, allowing the room to fall into silence once more. The two were left taking turns rewetting the cloth on Arthur's forehead, watching him sleep peacefully for nearly another hour before his eyes began to open. He caught sight of Matthew, smiling softly and reaching out for his hand, which the Canadian quickly took, nearly in tears.

"How are you feeling?" Leave it to Matthew to be the overly concerned one. If it were up to him, he would most likely switch positions with him just to ease Arthur's suffering. "Any more labor pains?"

A light shake of the head told them that Arthur was in better shape than they had both originally thought. "I'm fine so far, just a light throbbing. I'm sure it won't be long before it gets worse though."

Alfred ran his thumb over Arthur's warm cheek, earning the Briton's attention, pained green eyes looking his way. "Kiku'll be here before you know it and then we can get this whole thing started." There was that stupid grin again, the one that both annoyed Arthur and comforted him. "We'll be able to meet our baby soon, Iggy."

Arthur smiled back, about to nod before his face contorted and he gripped the sheets beside him, another pain ripping through his abdomen. He could practically feel the child shifting inside of him, what he was sure he _could _feel though were Alfred's and Matthew's hands on him, helping him move into a more comfortable position. He hadn't realized how hard he had bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted the horrid coppery taste that was unmistakably blood. "I-It's getting…worse."

Alfred and Matthew gave each other worried looks, both having the same thought cross their minds. They wondered if Arthur would be able to hang on long enough for the others to arrive. He had to, right? It wasn't like they could deliver the baby! They didn't know the first thing about babies or giving birth to them, being such young nations.

Thankfully, they didn't need to worry for much longer, since before long Kiku and Yao had arrived, storming into the room and taking total control. Yao had quickly set up what seemed to be a miniature laboratory in the corner of the room, beginning to mix herbs and spices to create some pain medication for Arthur to take. He had reassured the others that it would have no effect on the baby and that this kind of medication had been passed down for generations in his country. No one objected to this, and Arthur chewed on the medicine that Yao had given him, his pain beginning to slightly dull.

Kiku pulled on a pair of latex gloves, getting out a mask to place over his mouth. "Alfred-san, I'm going to have to ask you to remove Arthur-san's pants so that I may check on the progress of the baby." Alfred had of course complied, waiting for everyone to leave the room before removing Arthur's night pants and undergarments, leaving him completely bare. The American hadn't been brave enough to check below himself, afraid of what he may see, so he simply covered Arthur with a sheet before letting the others back into the room. He was surprised to see Ludwig and Feliciano enter after everyone else, the Italian nearly hopping in place as his Germany lover began to get the room in order. Obviously some unspoken law had been passed that Ludwig was now in charge of the entire operation. He stood at the end of the bed, speaking quietly to Kiku while the Japanese man checked on Arthur's progress.

"Your body seems to have made a temporary birth canal, Arthur-san." Kiku informed the Briton, standing up from his crouched position. "It seems we have a rather regular birth on our hands."

Arthur grunted against another wave of pain, his eyes rolling for a brief moment. "Smashing, now I feel even less gentlemanly than I did before."

Alfred was lost in all of the confusion, holding onto Arthur's hand as Matthew rewet the washcloth for the fourth time that night. As if everything wasn't in enough chaos, Toris came clambering into the room, nearly tripping over his own two feet and panting like crazy to catch his breath as if he had run there all the way from Lithuania. Feliks could be heard greeting other nations downstairs, seemingly as loud and cheerful as ever despite the situation. Alfred had to wonder who was on the first level of the house, since there were obviously more Nations than he had originally thought.

"I-I came as quickly as I could," the Lithuanian nation panted, stepping into the room. "What can I do?" Toris had always been the nurturing kind, having taken care of a number of Nations (including Alfred for a brief period) over the long years of his life, so it was only natural for him to want to help in welcoming this child into the world. He looked to Ludwig, having caught the drift that the German was in charge.

Six sets of eyes turned his way (Arthur was the only one who didn't look, seeing as his eyes were clamped shut tightly as he rode out another contraction), looking for his guidance. Ludwig was never one to disappoint when it came to creating a schedule and keeping order. "Yao, mix up another batch of medicine in case the first wears out," the Chinese nation nodded and set to work. "Toris and Matthew, go and collect as many towels and bed sheets as you can. These aren't going to last too much longer and we don't want Arthur sitting in dirty sheets while he delivers the baby, it could cause infection." The Lithuania and Canadian nations gave nods before swiftly flying from the room almost simultaneously. "Kiku, since I don't know that much about children you'll have to lead me. I'll help you as best I can."

"I will do all I can, Ludwig-san," Kiku offered a gentle smile, lifting his head up from his crouched position at the foot of the bed. He was checking on the progress of Arthur's dilation, finding that it was almost time for them to begin pushing.

Ludwig gave Kiku a nod, his face remaining as stoic as possible as he walked over toward Alfred, clapping the American nation on the shoulder. "Alfred, do your best to comfort Arthur as much as possible." He was never one to become very sentimental in front of others, so he decided to leave it at that. His eyes drifted down and met Arthur's, noticing how pale and sweaty the strong nation of England looked. "Arthur, we'll try and make this as quick and painless as possible. I promise I'll keep order."

Arthur gave Alfred's hand a squeeze, indicating that he was still in a fairly strong amount of pain. It seemed even the Chinese medicine couldn't cure all of the labor pains he was experiencing, but he was still thankful to have Yao with them for help. "T-Thank you…Ludwig."

No one seemed to notice the bouncing Italian in the center of the room, looking very much like a puppy that wanted out, even though everyone knew that Feliciano wanted to be in the middle of the action, wishing he could be one of the first to greet the new baby. "Ludwig! Ludwig! What can I do?"

He knew that question was coming. Feliciano never wanted to be left out, even if others told him he was useless and would most likely screw everything up. That was why Ludwig had devised a plan, one which Feliciano couldn't possibly fail at. His massive hand came down to rest on his lover's shoulder, looking seriously into chocolate brown eyes. "Feliciano, you have the most important job of all."

The little Italian went into a military stance, giving a mock solute as his expression becoming quite serious. "I'll do the best I can, Ludwig! What's my job?"

"I need you to boil some hot water."

- - -

Three hours later and it was early morning, the sun starting to flood in through the window of the crowded bedroom. Nations sat everywhere, dirty sheets piled up in a corner, clean blankets placed at the foot of the bed along with a pot (yes, Feliciano had used a cooking pot) of hot water, and in the middle of it all was Arthur. It had taken two changes of bed sheets before the British nation was finally able to start pushing, which everyone was thankful for because they were running out of linen. Who would have guessed that birthing a baby was nearly as messy as a battlefield?!

Francis had been kicked out of the room four times prior to then, but the fifth and final time came when he happened to walk in during one of Arthur's particularly bad contractions. The British nation was quick to snap his head in the Frenchman's directions, venomous green eyes nearly burning a hole through the older nation's forehead. "FRANCIS, I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU COME UP THOSE STAIRS ONE MORE TIME I'M GOING TO JUMP OUT OF THIS BED, TEAR YOUR BALLS OFF, AND FORCE THEM DOWN YOUR THROAT!" Needless to say, that was all it took to keep Francis downstairs, where he waited with Antonio, Lovino, Gilbert, and Feliks, who had all either been dragged along or received a phone call from the French nation telling them of the big news.

Kiku had informed them that it was time to push, and Alfred helped Arthur into an upright position, propping him up on as many pillows as it took to make him both comfortable and able to deliver. Arthur was in so much pain at this point that he had started screaming at everyone who dared to talk to him, blaming Alfred for putting him into the position he was in right now and saying that he would kill him once this was all over. Alfred had laughed it off, though he did become a little worried that some of the things the British nation was spouting were true. He could honestly say that he was beginning to fear for his life by the time the pushing began.

"Very good, Arthur-san." Kiku praised as Arthur fell back against the pillows, panting and sweating, his teeth grinding against each other and his eyes screwed shut. "Now, when you feel another contraction, I want you to give another big push just like that. You're crowning as it is, this is one of the worst parts."

He knew he was crowning, he could _feel _the baby's head at the entrance of his birth canal, just begging to be set free. Vaguely, he wondered how long a baby could stay there without oxygen, and then he began to panic slightly. Tears spilled from his eyes as the fear set in. What if he couldn't do this? What if he wasn't strong enough? It was too late to be having these kinds of doubts, and before he knew it another painful contraction hit him, and he was bearing down again, pushing with all his might and squeezing onto Alfred's hand.

"You can do it, Iggy! You're almost there!" Alfred was all smiles, and Arthur was wishing he had the strength to punch him right now. How on Earth could he smile when his husband was in this much pain?! It was inhumane! There should be a law against husband's smiling while their lover's were in labor with their children. Surely he would have to speak to the Queen about that.

His cheeks flushed red and he let out a scream, collapsing backward into the pillows again and gasping for breath. Kiku had shouted that the head was out, and Arthur was beginning to feel the pressure again. He knew he needed to push, but he didn't have the strength to sit up, instead he looked helplessly over at Alfred.

"You're alright. You're okay," Alfred couldn't help but start crying. Never in his life had he seen his former father look this helpless. He stood up, his mind having been made up the second he looked into those green eyes. "I'll help you, Arthur. We're going to do this together." Before anyone could protest, Alfred climbed onto the bed in back of Arthur, sitting between the British nation and the pillows. He wrapped his arms around his lover, pulling him to his chest and helping him get into position. Arthur gratefully accepted the help, taking his cue and collecting a huge breath of air before bearing down again.

Kiku gently guided the baby's shoulders out one by one, supporting the infant's head and smiling softly to himself. There was a newborn baby in his hands, just moments away from being born, only one push remained and they would be home free. "One more, Arthur-san. One more and the baby will be out."

Alfred kissed at Arthur's neck, squeezing his hand and whispering comforting words into his ear as the older nation worked on catching his breath. "You can do this, Arthur. Almost there. Just one more and we can welcome our baby into the world. Just one more. I love you so much."

That was all he needed, those words seemed to be the key that gave him the strength to go on. He sat up straight, taking a deep breath and pushing with all his might, his head tipping back to fall against Alfred's shoulder as an ear piercing scream escaped his lungs to fill the room. Arthur had screamed so loudly that his ears were ringing by the time he had fallen back against Alfred's chest, his vision blurred slightly but not enough to disable him from realizing what was happening just a few feet away from him. At the foot of the bed, Kiku stood holding the newborn in his arms, Toris at his side, wiping the babe down with a damp cloth, Ludwig had cut the cord with his trusty pocket-knife. All of this was completely irrelevant to Arthur, whose world seemed to consist solely on the baby in Kiku's arms. This was the moment he had been waiting to see for nine long months, and now that it was finally here he felt as if it was nothing more than a mere dream. He watched as his baby was passed to Toris, who cleaned it up completely before bundling it and handing it over to Arthur, who gently took the bundle into his arms, his smile lighting up the room.

"Congratulations," Kiku smiled at the two, pulling off his mask and offering a generous smile. "It's a girl."

The baby girl wriggled in Arthur's arms, gurgling and flexing her tiny fingers as if she were testing out her new born body. Alfred smiled down at her from over Arthur's shoulder, one hand reaching out to caress the tiny hand of his baby girl, watching excitedly as it curled around his index finger.

"A girl, Arthur…" Alfred breathed, absolutely fascinated by the baby. "It's a girl."

Arthur could no longer feel the tears streaming down his face. He hadn't even realized he had started crying until he noticed that his vision was being distorted by something wet coming from his eyes. "She's beautiful…" The moment he said it, he had realized that it wasn't enough. No, there wasn't possibly a word in any known language that could describe how beautiful their new born baby girl was. She was born with soft, porcelain skin, very much like her mother's, but already the pair could tell that she would have a personality like her father's, seeing as she hadn't stopped moving around since she was out of the womb. Arthur was quick to notice the small piece of hair that stuck up above the others, proudly defying gravity like Alfred's Nantucket. He brushed a finger over it, trying to smooth it down, but to no avail, the hair obviously had no intention of staying down. Arthur allowed himself to smile, his daughter already had a beautiful combination of both their traits. He had wondered what color her eyes would be, but he guessed he would have to wait a while for that, seeing as the babe still had her eyes clamped shut.

"What're we gonna name her?" Alfred's voice broke through the silence, his fingers brushing over the tiny one's in his hand.

They had never discussed names. They both figured one would just come naturally once they were able to see their child for the first time, and Arthur was thankful that one had just surfaced in his mind. He brushed back her hair, smiling paternally down at his new born baby girl, the baby he had carried inside of him for nine long months. "Emma," he whispered. "Emma Jane Kirkland Jones."

Alfred repeated the name, as if getting his mouth used to forming it. "Emma…Emma…I like it!" He laughed happily. "Welcome to the world, Emma."

- - -

A/N: *wipes sweat away* Oh man, okay, this took one day to write completely, and then I got distracted and nervous and had to wait several more days before I could read it over to edit it. I made a few minor finishing touches on it, and I think over all it came out alright. I'm not really sure if I like the ending of this chapter, but I can reassure you that this isn't the final chapter, so you don't have to worry!

I'm honestly not sure how to end this story. The last chapter is going to be a complete mystery to me until I write it, so feel free to leave a comment with things you'd like to see. Also, let me know what you think the sequel should be about, because I'm still in the dark about it! If I don't get an idea it's probably just going to consist of Alfred and Arthur raising Emma, with maybe a surprise or two!

I hope you guys enjoyed this! Thank you to those who have stuck by my side throughout this fanfic. It is by far my favorite and I've had the most fun writing it! I hope the sequel and oneshots will be just as fun! See you next time! Much love!


	11. Chapter 11

**Draw a Circle**

_Chapter 11_

Green. Her eyes were a stunning green whose beauty rivaled even those of the jewels of the royal family of England. Alfred had been thrilled the day that Emma had finally decided to show off her emeralds to the world, claiming that she had her mother's eyes (somewhere along the line, Arthur had been declared the "mother", which he wasn't going to complain about since he had, in fact, carried Emma for nine long months inside of him and if that wasn't the definition of a mother then the nearest dictionary should fall and clock him upon the head). Arthur had to admit, he was a bit disappointed at first that the eyes of the child of the New World hadn't been the ones to stare back at him the day his baby girl opened her eyes, but he had quickly gotten used to them. It was almost like looking into a mirror every time he stared down at his babe, though her eyes were just about the only thing she had inherited from him besides her soft skin tone. As she got older, her hair color had turned a soft golden tint, like the wheat fields of Alfred's country, a trait her father was oblivious to (Alfred was still busy marveling over the fact that his daughter had inherited his Nantucket despite her not being an actual country). Still, Arthur couldn't possibly come up with words to describe his daughter's beauty since his brain temporarily stopped functioning every time he got an eyeful of her.

The British nation had been bedridden for several days after the birth, too weak to even get up and go to the bathroom by himself (something he was highly embarrassed about). Luckily for him, his husband was more than willing to help with every little problem that they faced, taking on the challenges like a true hero. Arthur cringed every time it was left up to Alfred to change Emma's diaper, knowing for sure that it would take weeks (if not months) for the younger nation to get the hang of it.

"Gack! It smells like a bomb exploded in here!"

Arthur heaved a sigh from his position in bed, sitting up a bit straighter and getting ready to give instructions if needed. "Yes, and the faster you clean it up the quicker that smell will go away."

"A stink bomb!"

"Yes. Yes, I know."

"Seriously, we should contact the Guiness Book of World Records or somethin' cause this has got to be off the charts on the stink radar!" Alfred obviously wasn't listening and Arthur was quickly losing patience.

"Just change her and bring her here, please."

Several more complaints resounded from the room down the hall before Alfred appeared with a very cranky looking baby in his arms. Emma squirmed about, her face wrinkled up in disgust as she was handed over to her mother, who examined her and quickly found the source of her discomfort. "It's on backwards."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. "What? How can ya tell?"

Arthur gently flipped Emma around to show Alfred the error he had made. "The bigger part with the little animals goes on the back." Emma wasn't the least bit happy about having a backwards diaper, and her little cries were quickly becoming louder in volume and much more whiny. Arthur set her down in his lap and quickly righted the wrong, patting down the sticky strips and smiling at his little girl. "There. Doesn't that feel better, baby?"

Emma's cries dulled almost instantly, her big eyes opening to stare up at her mother with curiosity before cracking a big smile and cooing. Arthur, in turned, laughed right back, lightly tickling his daughter's chubby belly with slender fingers. Alfred looked on, sitting at the end of the bed, content to just soak up the moment with a loving smile on his face.

All in all, Emma was generally a pretty easy going baby. She cried when babies normally cried (when she was dirty, at bath time, or when she wanted to be put down for a nap), but most of the time a toothless grin could be seen on her little face. She had calmed down a lot as the months passed, no longer a wiggle worm when it came time to be fed, turning into some what of a little lady. Alfred's old dresses suited her perfectly, though she did get them dirty on occasion. Arthur was sure that this weekend he would be in for a rather heavy load of laundry, since the family was headed over to New York for Alfred's birthday. It was the first time since the wedding that Arthur had been out of the house, and he was glad to finally get a chance to stretch his legs. July was turning out to be a wonderful month, so he and Alfred decided that they would take a vacation at Alfred's Virginia home.

Emma had enjoyed the plane ride immensely, staring out the window and shrieking happily once they were high enough in the sky to see clouds. Arthur had muttered apologies to those around him when he found he couldn't quiet his daughter down, her excitement only rising with the altitude of the plane. Alfred held her close to the window, watching the clouds with her and telling her all sorts of things about where they were headed and what it was like to fly a plane. Though she was still much too young to understand exactly what was being said to her, Emma was content to listen to her daddy's stories, calming down and eventually settling down for a nap in his arms.

Getting through the airport without being stopped by a hoard of giggling teenagers was a difficult task indeed. The two were stopped several times, and Emma received more than enough compliments to make Alfred start to feel jealous that she hadn't inherited his eye color ("Why is that the first thing they notice anyway?"). Arthur politely conversed with as many people as he could before he had had enough, tugging Alfred by the arm out of the airport. He held Emma securely in his arms as Alfred haled a cab for them, the toddler observing the busy scenery around her with interest.

- - -

"I thought we would never make it!" Alfred dropped the suitcases on the floor by the front door before allowing the diaper bag to fall from his shoulder. "Imagine how crazy those girls would have gotten if they found out we were together."

Arthur only rolled his eyes, heading for the couch to sit down, "I think they already knew, Alfred." Honestly, how could someone be that thick? Emma had fallen asleep during the cab ride. Apparently the world below the clouds wasn't nearly as interesting as being in the sky, so she had drifted off to dreamland, no doubt dreaming of flying up high again. Arthur gently situated her a bit better on his shoulder, rubbing her back and speaking to Alfred. "I suppose we'd better put her down for a nap so that she's more awake for tonight."

Alfred removed his sneakers and walked over to join his husband and daughter on the couch. He reached out a hand, softly caressing the golden locks of hair that were rapidly growing on his daughter's head. That one strand of hair had continued to grow, now resembling Nantucket to the fullest, leaving Alfred to wonder what they were going to do when it came time to cut their daughter's hair for the first time. "Do you want me to bring her to her crib?"

A few months prior, Alfred had returned home and set up a room for Emma so that she would have a place to sleep when the family decided they could use a change in scenery. Emma couldn't exactly spend her entire life without knowing her father's country, now could she? Though the room wasn't nearly as fantastic as the one at Arthur's house (mainly because Alfred had to do everything himself), it was still rather homey. The walls were a light purple, the floors wooden with a circular dark purple area rug in the middle. The rest of the furniture was wooden to match the floor, and Alfred had made sure to stock the room with as many stuffed animals as he could possibly find (unicorns in particular) to make Emma feel at home. This would be the first nap she would take in her new room, and Alfred was excited to set her down in her new crib.

Arthur gave a nod, waiting for Alfred to hold out his arms so that he could pass off their baby to him. "Make sure you support her head,"

"I know, Iggy."

"Don't drop her."

"I know."

"Don't--"

"Arthur, I've been a father for a six months now. I think I know how to hold her." Arthur stopped, looking over at Alfred before realizing how silly he was being. A crimson blush crept across his face before he muttered an apology. "I suppose you're right."

Alfred laughed quietly, reaching over to peck his husband quickly on the lips. "I'll be right back."

Arthur kissed him back, his eyes closing for one fleeting minute. "Alright." Honestly, Alfred's smiles must be contagious, because Arthur couldn't stare at them for longer than five seconds without feeling the muscles in his face start tugging upward. He watched his husband climb the stairs, his heart swelling with pride at the care Alfred displayed towards their daughter. He really was turning out to be a wonderful father.

- - -

Her tiny fist reached forward a second too late as the grasshopper took the opportunity it was presented to hop into the air, landing beside the toddler's foot. Emma's cheeks puffed out into a pout as she looked around to find her lost bug only to have her father's hands in her face, the green inspect perched inside them.

"It's called a grasshopper, Emma." Alfred explained, laying on his stomach beside his daughter. They had spread a blanket out on the grass in the backyard to watch the fireworks that night. Emma had quickly become fascinated with everything the outdoors had to offer. She had already crawled off the blanket three times, but was content to sit there as long as she had something interesting to play with. The grasshopper had become her newest play thing.

"Gah!"

"Close enough," Alfred laughed, tapping Emma on the nose with his free hand. The grasshopper was getting ready to leap off, possibly because it was frightened of the six month old child who had her face so close to it that it was practically in her mouth.

"Alfred, don't let her play with bugs," Arthur came over to the blanket, carrying a plate of hamburgers fresh off the grill (Alfred had cooked them, only allowing Arthur to apply the condiments). "She's going to get dirty again." He set the plate down beside the bags of chips and the drinks, crossing his legs beneath him.

The grasshopper sprang from Alfred's hand as fast as a jack rabbit at the sound of the Briton's voice. Emma's bottom lip protruded and began quivering at the loss of her new friend, but she didn't cry. Within a minute she had found a nearby slug to focus her attention on. Her attention deficit disorder was yet another thing she had inherited from Alfred.

"I thought that's what the baby wipes were for," Alfred pointed out, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He turned around to face his husband, swiping a burger off the platter to munch on while he talked. "You never let her have any fun, Iggy. Loosen up! A little dirt ain't gonna kill 'er."

Arthur closed his eyes as burger bits were spit in his general direction, wiping his face with a napkin before opening up a cup of applesauce. "Emma, come here, love."

The toddler was lifted from her spot beside her slug friend, being perched on her mum's lap. Green orbs widened as she spotted her dinner for the night and her chubby arms waved around, hands coming together to clap awkwardly. "Om! Om!"

Arthur mixed up the sauce with the tiny spoon before holding out a generous amount for his daughter. She was quick to bring her mouth to the spoon, slurping up the contents nosily while clapping some more. Arthur's hopes that she would have a dignified appetite were out the window at this point. He cleaned up the excess food from her face with her bib and gave her another spoonful.

Alfred watched the display while devouring his third hamburger, making just as much of a mess as Emma was. His head tilted to the sky, thoughts drifting for a moment as it became silent around them. "The fireworks should be starting soon." No sooner had the words left his mouth than a loud whistling sounded around them and their heads snapped to the sky, noticing a firework exploding off in the distance. A huge smile spread across Alfred's face, leaning back on the palms of his hands to watch the show.

Emma remained silent, staring up into the clear sky at the pretty colors that were showering down upon them. She reached her hands up, as if hoping to catch the glittering remains with her chubby hands. Arthur looked down at his daughter, thoroughly surprised that she didn't seem the least bit phased by the loud noises. "She isn't scared." he breathed as another firework went off, and then another after that.

Alfred let out a loud "droohoo!" and pumped his fist, causing Emma to burst out laughing. "Of course she isn't! She's the daughter of a hero!"

A stupid statement indeed, but that didn't change the fact that Emma was acting more like Alfred by the minute. What child wasn't afraid of loud noises? Arthur prayed that perhaps it was because his daughter was just brighter than the average child, knowing enough that a sound wasn't something to be particularly scared of. Yes, that had to be it. It couldn't possibly be that his daughter was taking after Alfred to the point that she was turning out to have a hero complex.

"That one's red, white, and blue!" Alfred shouted over the noise, bending down to explain things to Emma who giggled in response. "Those are daddy's colors, Emma!"

Arthur was about to open his mouth and correct him, but decided against it seeing as Emma was having so much fun watching the fireworks display with her father. At least they would have something fun to look forward to now on Alfred's birthday which eased the pain a little bit for Arthur.

- - -

Once the fireworks display was finished, Alfred figured it was high time to bring out the sparklers. Arthur had forbidden him to purchase any other kinds of explosives, having deemed them dangerous and not suited for children (not that Emma was about to play with the sparklers). Alfred stood a little ways away from the blanket, lighting up the first sparkler and watching the look on Emma's face change from one of complete curiosity to one of utter amazement. It was as if her father had just produced fire from his hands and was waving it around on a stick a few feet away from her. She squealed loudly, bouncing on the blanket and clapping her hands as Alfred waved the sparkler around to entertain her.

"She likes 'em, Iggy!"

Arthur couldn't help but smile. Emma was fascinated by everything that kept Alfred happy. She truly was his daughter, and he had to admit that it warmed his heart to watch this little display, but he had matters to attend to. "Good. Could you watch her for a moment? I have to get something from inside."

Alfred waited until the sparkler had gone out before going back over to the blanket and scooping Emma up into his strong arms. "Sure! But don't take too long, I wanna use the rest of these before she gets too tired."

Arthur gave a nod and stood up, dusting off his pants and heading for the back door, a smile on his lips. He made his way into the kitchen, picking up a platter from the counter and removing the tinfoil from the top of it. There sat the cake he had made for Alfred's birthday. It consisted of a plain yellow inside, covered with white frosting. On top, the words "Happy Birthday, Alfred" were written neatly in red and blue. Arthur stood back and admired his work for a moment before opening up a kitchen drawer and pulling out a pack of candles. He decorated the cake and lit each candle with care, being sure not to set anything aflame. Then, with the most balance he could muster, he carried the cake to the door. Alfred had his back turned to him, not suspecting a thing as Arthur crept back over to his family and sat down, the cake in his lap.

"Alfred,"

"Hm?" Alfred craned his neck around, instantly catching sight of the lit candles and breaking out into a smile. He turned his entire body around, Emma still situated comfortably in his lap, sucking on the ear of her stuffed unicorn. "Aww, Iggy! You made me a cake!"

The British nation pushed aside his pride and quietly began singing Happy Birthday to his husband, his voice quivering from nerves (the ridiculous smile that was plastered on Alfred's face didn't help matters in the least) thankful when he reached the last note that it hadn't cracked mid-chorus. Once the song was finished, he leaned carefully over the cake, catching Alfred's lips in a quick, but meaningful kiss. His eyes then turned to the bouncing babe in Alfred's arms. "Help daddy blow out the candles, Emma."

"Think you can do it, baby?" Alfred looked down, noticing Emma's eyes locked on the tiny flames of the candles. "Go like this," He demonstrated by blowing at the air, which Emma quickly began to mimic. "Alright! Here we go!" Arthur held the cake out to them and together they extinguished the flames, Alfred letting out a cheer. "Thanks, baby! We did it!"

Emma gurgled and laughed, clapping her hands again as Alfred bounced her in his lap. She was eating up the attention and the praise she was getting while Arthur began cutting the cake, pushing a plate over to Alfred. At that point, the American nation stopped bouncing the baby in his lap and looked nervously over at his husband. "Y-You don't really want me to eat this, do you?"

Arthur's head whipped around so quickly that Alfred could have sworn he heard his neck crack. A venomous green glare met him, thick brows knitting together dangerously. "I made it for you, Alfred. Why on Earth wouldn't you eat it?"

"That's exactly why I wouldn't eat it!" Alfred protested. "Because you made it!"

Arthur didn't seem to be listening. He picked up his plate of cake, breaking off a small piece and bringing it to Emma's lips. "Here. Emma will eat some and show you just how good it is. Say "ah", love."

"Are you crazy?! It could kill her!" But it was too late. Emma had opened her mouth and clamped it shut around the fork, chewing thoughtfully on the piece of cake. For a moment all seemed perfectly fine, until Emma's little face contorted into one of sheer agony, her eyes filling to the brim with tears. She burst out crying, spitting out the piece of cake as if the food had bitten her tongue, in complete hysterics. "See?! I told you!"

Arthur could practically feel his heart crumbling in his chest. His own daughter hated his cooking. What kind of parent was he? He was sure this recipe had been a success! Where had he gone wrong?

Alfred spooned Emma up against his shoulder, patting her back and shushing her. "It's okay, Em. I won't let mummy feed you nasty food anymore. Don't worry."

She had her father's taste. That was another thing to add to the list of traits Emma had inherited from Alfred. But Arthur wouldn't let this get him down. He was positive that Emma had inherited something from him as well. He just had no idea of knowing just how special that inheritance was at that moment in time.

- - -

The cake incident had signified the end of their outdoor time. It took a great amount of effort to get Emma to stop crying. In fact it was nothing that either of her parents had done to make her stop crying, she had simply tired herself out. She had fallen asleep against Arthur's shoulder, leaving Alfred to bring the blanket inside and throw away the food. Arthur was displeased to say the least, but once he brought his daughter up into her new bedroom all of his anger had dissipated.

He took the time to admire the quaint little room as he set Emma upon her changing table, putting her into a fresh diaper and pulling her nightgown on. Alfred had really put a lot of effort into making this room look cozy, and it made Arthur's heart clench within his chest. So this was what he was up to when he had gone home that one weekend a couple of weeks back. This was the project he was working on. The Briton had to admit, it was one of Alfred's better ideas.

Arthur scooped up Emma once she was dressed for bed and crossed the room, bending over the crib and gently laying her down inside. Her unicorn, Winston, was already there waiting for her, so Arthur tucked him close to her side. Her little hand clasped around the strands of hair on Winston's mane, holding him close as a small smile appeared on her rosebud lips. Arthur smiled back, straightening up and reaching for the airplane mobile above the crib. He turned the device until it was good and wound, letting it go and listening as the sound of the music box-like tune filled the room. He stood staring as the mobile went round for a few minutes when something glittery caught his eye.

There, sitting upon the railing of the crib, were the four fairies who had helped him clean his room all those months ago. His eyes widened, catching the smug looks on their tiny faces as they each waved to him. "You--" he started, shocked as to why he was seeing his fairy friends for the first time in over a year.

"Arthur likes his baby, right?"

That was when it hit him. His eyes traveled from the fairies to his daughter who was peacefully dozing off in her crib, then back up again. "You did this…didn't you?"

Suddenly it all made sense. The reason the fairies had asked him so many questions about Alfred's childhood, the constant pressing of the fact that Arthur was now childless and alone, the fairy dust he had found coating his sheets the next morning. Everything clicked into place, making a clear and simple picture in his mind. It was so obvious! Why hadn't he thought of it before?

A chorus of soft giggles broke him from his thoughts, and just like that the fairies had disappeared, leaving Arthur to wonder if they had even been there to begin with. Had the fairies really been the one who had helped him become pregnant? Were they responsible for the child sleeping in the crib beside him? Something in his heart told him that they were, and if he was right then his friends had given him the greatest gift the world possibly had to offer. He would treasure her, forever.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips as he stared distantly at the spot where the little fairies had been only moments prior. "Thank you…" Arthur Kirkland then pressed a kiss to his daughter's forehead, wishing her sweet dreams before heading off to bed with the man he loved.

- - -

A/N

I…did it…I actually FINISHED this story!! Even I can't believe it! Honestly, I'm going to cry any second now…I always get so emotional after finishing these (it's a good thing I hardly ever finish, right?).

I know this wasn't my best chapter, but it was really hard to write and I hadn't a clue what to write for a very long time. Inspiration suddenly hit me one day and I took a few hours to write the middle portion. The end had been planned out since the very beginning, of course.

All in all, I hope you guys enjoyed it! The sequel will get started as soon as I sort out some minor details going on in my life right now. But I would love to hear from you guys! Leave comments and suggestions telling me what you want to see in the second story! I have a general idea of what's going to happen, but nothing too deep, so I need all the help I can get!

I want to thank everyone who has stuck with me since the very beginning! You guys are honestly the greatest! I couldn't ask for better readers! Thank you to everyone who has sent me their lovely art for my story (please keep it coming, if you want to do more)! I just can't thank you guys enough, honestly!

I'll see you all next time!

~Colie


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